"Hey, Cam…" He gives me a half-smile.

I'm still gaping like a fish. "Grant?"

"Err, do you want to sit down?" he offers, gesturing towards my room, and I nod, still dazed.

"What are you doing here?" I splutter, once we're safely locked in my room, him perched on my bed, me by the chest of drawers.

Grant shrugs and looks around the room. "Nice place."

"Don't change the subject! Where are the others? They're not here are they?" Yeah, three months out of the spy world and I've turned into a spluttering idiot.

Grant looks kind of uncomfortable now, and that's when I realise I'm sort of not wearing a shirt, so I blush and open the drawers and pull out a blue tank top, and pull that over my head.

"Well, the others don't know I'm here, and as to why I'm here… well… you'll find out soon enough," he finally replies, scratching his neck.

I growl at Grant and stride towards him. "No," I say menacingly, "you're going to tell me NOW, or else I'll set the little lady, who lets me stay here, on you!"

"Well, there are people after you…"

I roll my eyes and turn away impatiently. "Does that include you? And when are there not people coming after me?"

"But this time there's more than one."

I spin back around to face him, furious. "Are you saying there's more than one international terrorist organisation after me?"

Meekly, he nods and I let out a sigh of frustration. "And I've come to save you."

I shoot him an irritated look and run my fingers through my hair. "Sorry, but I don't need a Prince Charming."

Grant laughs. "I'm not your Prince Charming. And, no, Cam, I'm not going to take you to him."

Grant doesn't need to elaborate on who 'he' is, because I know anyway. "I'm not afraid of him. But, one quick question, how come you're not digging my eyeballs out, right now?"

He gives a shrug and picks up one of Patricia's many picture frames, and shuffles it from one hand to the other. "Because I know the truth. I have many contacts… good and bad… and they've told me everything that happened; right from the start."

I stare at him. "And you believe it all?"

"Do you want me to?"

Keeping silent, I walk over and sit next to Grant. For some reason, I place a hand on his shoulder, and say, "Thanks, Grant. It means a lot that someone believes me." I hesitate for a moment. "Are the others okay?"

He seems to be thinking, but finally replies, "Yeah… apart from the fact they think that you're buried under the ground. Bex is mad… I'm not sure about Macey… Liz is pretty much distraught… but Zach still loves you, if that's any consolation."

With a sad smile, I remove my hand. "Thanks Grant…"

"You already said that," he points out.

"Are you hungry?"

"Cam… when am I not?"

"Fair point."

As we head downstairs, I fill Grant in about my life since he last saw me. He laughs at the fact that I have a waitressing job, so I push him down the rest of the stairs.

Patricia, who's still in the kitchen, looks over at the two of us and her eyes widen. "Emily, who's this handsome young man?"

"Err… well—" I begin, but Grant cuts me off.

"We're old friends. I thought I'd drop around and visit her. We haven't seen each other in years."

I raise my eyebrow at him, and then walk over to the pantry. I pull out the tin of biscuits. Yeah, I've gone from secret spy to cookie-baker… a little sad, yet heart-warming at the same time.

The best thing is Grant's expression as he bites into a choc-chip one. He splutters, "When did you become all domestic-y and learn to cook?"

Patricia butts in before I can reply. "Oh, Emily here has been taught by me!"

Grant shoots me an amused look. "Yeah, well, it's just that Emily wasn't really a top chef when I knew her last."

"So did you two ever date?"

I snort into the drink I was about to take a sip from, as Grant's eyes widen. "Oh, well, Em missed out on a lot. Including me. We've always just been friends."

He smirks as I shoot him a look.

"I don't think I got your name, dearie," Patricia said, gathering up the used plates.

"Oh." Grant looks at me again. "Luke. Luke Davis."

"Well, it's nice to meet you Mr Davis."

"You, too."

Patricia insists – as she did with me – that Grant stays the night. But I get a surprise when I walk into my room after I finally have my shower and see her setting up a mattress on the floor.

"Um, Patricia…?" I begin, not really knowing what to say.

She just gives me a toothy smile. "Your friend will sleep in here, dearie."

And then she leaves me to deal with Grant alone. I frown as he comes in, and laughs at my pyjama shorts. "Nice…"

I simply shove him onto the mattress and slide into my own comfy bed.

"Hey!" he exclaims indignantly. "I'm the guest, I should get the bed!"

"Nananana, you're so immature, Grant!" I tease back.

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm immature?"

I laugh and throw a pillow at him, hard, and he cries out, "Oof!"

"Don't think you haven't gotten out of telling me everything, Gra—I mean, Luke."

He snorts, and replies, "Wouldn't dream of it."

I lie awake for a while, thinking over everything that happened today, and wondering what the future will hold.

Just as I'm about to fall into a welcomed sleep, a loud, fake snore practically shakes the room.

"GRANT!"

Yay, second update in a day Just because I love you all so much. In a non-creepy way.

And I'd love you even more if you reviewed ;)

Thanks to Carah for guilt-ing (and inspiring) me into updating again! :D

(Carah is the-Gallagher-Girl-Zammie – so check out her stories! They rockkkk)

Ta ~Jen