This is Prompt No. 33-Trampoline

When the door closed behind Caitlyn, Mitchie lay back in bed more comfortably, letting herself wince as she felt another stabbing pain shoot through her shoulder and into her neck. "Ow," she whimpered, not quite able to keep the tears from coming. "When will I ever learn not to be so stupid?" she wondered. "Probably never," she answered herself out loud wryly.

Her thoughts turned to Shane and his awaited arrival. Obviously he remembered her, but would he be pleased to see her? Was she being held captive for some reason, or had she been rescued? It was all so confusing! Mitchie's hands tightened on the sheet as she mentally examined all the possibilities.

Her body seemed, at the moment, very much like a trampoline. Her heart was beating so fast that it would occasionally leap into her throat, and then it would slide back down into the bottom of her stomach, staying there like a heavy rock. Her hands, still clutching the sheets, felt slick with sweat, and it was all she could do not to scream from anxiousness.

There was a slight knock on the door, and Mitchie tensed. "Come in," she called, immediately hating the way her voice sounded weak and raspy.

Almost instantaneously, the door flew wide open and Shane came hurrying in through it. He stopped suddenly when he saw Mitchie, and she likewise paused with her mouth hanging open, stunned.

Though it had only been three months since they had seen each other, time was a great diluter. Their memories of each other had faded slightly even though they had thought them to be as sharp as ever. With him standing only a few feet away from her, Mitchie couldn't help but be reminded of his handsome features. To her, he was just as handsome if he was wearing a dirty uniform as he had been when he had stolen her heart that night in France.

The meeting was much different for him as well. True, Mitchie was paler than he had remembered, but that would diminish in time once she regained her strength again. Her hair was glossier than he remembered, and he silently thanked Caitlyn for having given Mitchie a bath when she had arrived.

He stepped toward her slowly. "Hi," he said softly, not wanting to scare her by being too forward.

A slight smile graced her lovely face at his words and she responded, "Hi." Her next words were a gamble, but she couldn't help uttering them. "I've missed you."

Those words melted any hesitancy either one of them felt. Shane was at her side before she could comprehend that he had moved, and he was tenderly holding her hand as he sat down on the bed. "I've missed you too," he responded, reaching up to push a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Did you?" Mitchie prodded.

Shane frowned, confused that she would question his feelings toward her. "Of course I did," he explained. "Why do you doubt that?"

Mitchie seemed to think for a moment and then she said, "I just want to know why you shot me."

Shane stilled almost instantly, and the hand that held Mitchie's tensed. After a long moment, Shane breathed out, "Alright." He nodded as though to show her that she had won. "I'll tell you." He shifted on the bed to make himself comfortable, and that one action told Mitchie that it was going to be a long explanation. "Do you remember back in France when I wouldn't tell you where I lived?"

"Yes," Mitchie answered with a nod.

"That's because I was testing you."

Mitchie frowned. This was not turning out the way she had expected. "What?" she asked. "Why?"

"Because I was in France on a mission," Shane explained, "and I had to make sure that you weren't a spy."

Mitchie couldn't help the laugh that issued from her lips. "A spy?" she asked. "Seriously?"

Shane nodded. "Yes, because that's what I am."

Mitchie stilled for a moment, surprise written on her features. "What?" The word "what" was becoming one of her most used words.

Shane tried again. "I'm a spy for the Union," he told her. "France was a mission of mine." He looked down at his hands and said quietly, "Getting you from the camp was another."

"That's why you shot me," Mitchie said, trying to put the pieces together.

"I didn't shoot you," Shane corrected her. "I couldn't have shot you. It was one of our sharpest shooters that did it. You'll meet up with him again later."

Mitchie frowned. "Again?" she asked.

Shane nodded. "You already know him," he told her. "Jason Black."

Mitchie's eyes widened. "He's a spy for the Union? But, he was in a Confederate camp!"

"As where you," Shane pointed out, smile on his face. "And you're neither a supporter of the Union nor a male."

"Touché," Mitchie responded with a slight bow of her head.

"He was the one who told us that you were in the camp," Shane continued. "It was safe to say that I was rather surprised that you were there. Eventually, the pieces fit together and everyone decided that you needed to be rescued before you got yourself killed." Shane smiled. "Jason was the one that looked after you, and I'm pretty sure that he saved your life."

"How so?" Mitchie questioned, and they both knew that she was thinking about the shooting.

"Well," Shane began, making sure that Mitchie recognized the teasing lilt in his voice, "first of all, you don't listen to directions very well. Jason told you to stay close to the tent for a reason. When you came out into the open, you were fair game, and someone took a shot at you that wasn't supposed to, so you can blame yourself for the first gunshot wound. He saved your life by shooting you again and knocking you unconscious instead of letting someone else kill you, and he saved you from having to fight as a young man by making your fellow soldiers think of you as dead."

Mitchie grinned as she processed all that information. "Is that all?" she asked dryly.

Shane responded just as dryly, "Probably not, but that's all I can think of at the moment."

"So," Mitchie began, "what do you do here? And better yet, where is 'here'?"

"'Here' is a tiny, rundown shack that we've made into a base. It took a long time to create all these tunnels under the shack, but it's the perfect hiding place. As to what we do, we're an organization of spies loyal to President Lincoln. We gather information wherever he needs it."

"Was getting to know me a mission?" Mitchie asked quietly, the question nagging at her mind.

Shane shook his head. "No. I met you the day before we were supposed to leave France." He smiled. "You became a personal mission of mine, but you weren't a government mission."

Mitchie blushed but moved on. "And do I get to leave when I feel better?"

Shane's face fell a little, but he nodded. "If that's what you'd like. We can send you back home looking like a typical prisoner of war, and your parents will never know what side you're really on."

"But?" Mitchie prompted, sensing that there was more to the offer.

"But I was hoping that you would consider staying with us," Shane added. "You told me back in France that you despised slavery. Here's your chance to do something to change it."

Mitchie thought about Mitchell and Anna, about the other slaves back home, and about her parents. She knew that she couldn't go back home, prisoner of war or not. It was time that she made her own life, and if she was going to do so, she might as well put everything on the line. "What would you have me do?" she asked.

Shane grinned, realizing that her question was an affirmative answer. "The main branch that you'd work with have all discussed the matter, and after your little masquerade, they've decided exactly where to put you." Mitchie waited for him to continue, but his next words floored her.

"We want you to become a spy."

A/N: Did you expect that? Let me know! :D