Originally this was going to be a one- shot, and this was that one chapter, which is my personal favorite. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing it. Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chapter 5

Regrets

I watch from the one-way glass window in the cold, sterile room in which I really don't want to be in. I see Agent Townsend walk in through the other door, his face bearing a blank mask. Then comes in Mr. Solomon, bruises still mark his body, but no burned flesh remains- thanks to our great surgeons. He's pale and appears even thinner than he did two days ago, heavy bags have formed underneath his drawn eyes, his expression is composed, but I have seen him enough times, to know that there is something troubling him, and I realize, that I'd truly regret agreeing to this and wanted nothing more than to hug him and welcome him to the conscious world, but I can't. I can only sit here and watch him go through this torture I had help set up

Mr. Solomon takes a seat in the cold metal table; and even after six weeks of dreamless sleep he seems exhausted, his face haggard and his deep blue-green eyes have lost their shine; they now look dull and haunted. Agent Townsend goes to the wall and presses a small button, the speakers around me come alive.

"Identify yourself." Agent Townsend demands, his voice low and unbiased, walking around the table, turning to face Mr. Solomon.

"Joseph Solomon" he answers, not adding extra information. Not needing to at the moment. His voice, I notice, is rough from lack of usage. I sigh, hating seeing Joe Solomon not in control of the situation.

"Good" Townsend say, not caring much for his answer as he moves around and pushes knobs on the polygraph, which is just there as a decoy this time. I see Mr. Solomon take in a deep breath, the gesture in itself looking difficult to carry on,

"For how long had you been teaching at the Gallagher Academy, Joe?" He asks, using his first name as if they're good friends, which they are anything but.

"Almost two years." He replies, his voice low, exhausted, defeated.

"Before that, what was your relationship with Rachael Morgan?" asks Townsend leaning on the table, facing Mr. Solomon.

"She is a good friend of mine." He answered his voice low and even through the speakers, I can hear the twinge of uncertainty.

"How did you meet her?" Townsend carries on.

"She was my best friend's wife." My teacher replies and I can't help but notice the saddened expression in his eyes.

"Whose side are you on?" Agent Townsend snaps the question, which seems to have no effect on Mr. Solomon.

"Cammie's." He answers without hesitation, without a doubt and I want so much to stop it here, for him not to go through this whole trial, but he has to, and I have to watch it happen. I take a steadying breath as it goes on.

"Is it true that you only took the position after you knew you'd be teaching her?"

"Yes, of course" Mr. Solomon replied.

"On which motives?"

"To prepare her for this life." He said gazing around him, Agent Townsend nods.

"You failed. Joe," he tells him, letting the information drop callously.

"I'm sorry Joe, I really am." He went on "Such a brilliant child, with such promising future."

He says, resuming his walk around the table, and I see emotions fleet through my mentor's eyes, as he tries to grasp the words.

Townsend carries on. "They tried to save her, they really did try their best, but Ms. Morgan died of intra-cerebral hemorrhage after being forced to jump of a cliff."

Mr. Solomon shakes his head slightly, "No." he whispers, denying it, not wanting to believe it. And still Agent Townsend keeps going, his voice and face drained from all emotion.

"Just for the record, the funeral was small and lovely, fitting for such a young pretty lady leading this life. Everyone whom she loved was there, her teachers, and classmates. Actually, there were only two persons whom she would have also wanted there. You off course and that boy, Zachary."

"Stop," Mr. Solomon demands, having heard enough, drawing the line at hearing Zach's name thrown in without much consideration. "Stop," He repeats.

"Why, Joe? I'm only filling you in on what you missed. Didn't you wonder why Rachael and Abby where not there when you woke up? Why they are not here? In their eyes, you betrayed her-betrayed them- You where the reason she was there that night, the reason she didn't run."

Mr. Solomon closes his eyes in pain from hearing those words as he let their meaning wash over him.

"I killed her, I killed her I killed them." He repeats silently and painfully, letting it sink in, believing he's to blame. And at that moment it becomes too much. I want to break the glass, scream and shout and tell him I'm okay. I want him to see me, and I want this to stop, but I can't. So I just draw my arms around myself, and watch, dying for the moment in which I could show myself.

"My job is done, Joseph, I had to break it to you. I'm sorry. Now I'll leave you to process that information. In a few moments someone will come to instruct you on what will happen next." Townsend says, his voice showing some compassion for the first time as he exits the rooms.

"You can go in five minutes Ms. Morgan." He says, looking at me, his eyes apologetic. I nod my thanks and he leaves me to wait.

The next five minutes are torture of the worst kind; seeing someone you love suffer like that, unable to do anything and knowing you are to blame. All of this just to prove he wasn't a cold-blooded traitor, to prove what we all already knew.

For the second time in my life, I see Mr. Solomon cry, but last time I was only half conscious. Now I'm forced to watch as he let himself fall to the floor, burying his face into his hands. "No, Cammie No… forgive me Matthew, Cammie, please forgive me," he pleads silently, his voice coming out choked as the tears fall, and sobs start rippling through his body.

There's no shame in it, just love, regret and unbearable pain. All his covers faded away, right there he was not my teacher, nor the best spy I ever knew. He's my father's best friend, the man who had and would do anything to protect me, to make sure I was ok. In many ways, I realized, just like a father to me and here I was, watching him suffer, suffer because of me, because I had agreed to this. The guilt of it claws at me. It was I who had betrayed him.

My face is tear-stained as I carefully open the metal door, his sobs were quiet now, he was so lost in grief he didn't notice my presence.

"I'm here." I whisper almost inaudibly.
He stops, not turning towards me, not daring to hope, or to believe I was here.

"I-I am here. There's nothing wrong up there. Trust me. Every thing is fine. I know a little something about these things." I say, echoing the words he said to me almost a year ago, not bothering in trying to hide the smile in my voice.

"Cammie?" he asks, his voice barely above an uncertain whisper. I place my hand on his shoulder and he places his on mine, making sure I'm there before rising to his feet a little unsteady and turns to face me. I reach out and place my hands on his chest, fearful that he might topple over. After a moment, he takes my hands in his, and I turn up to him, smiling with tears still running down my face. I meet his eyes. He stares back at me, taking in every inch of my face. It takes him a moment, but at last he chuckles, shaking his head in great disbelief, and even greater relief, and the next moment I'm ensnared in his embrace.

"Cammie." He whispers into my ear. "You are here. Cammie, I thought I'd lost you. You are here. Alive." He continues to whisper kissing the top of my head as I feel hot tears seep into my hair.

"I'm here, Sir, I'm here, I'm alive. I'm okay, It's okay" I sooth, burying my hot, tear-stained face into his chest and trying hard to quite the choking sobs that threatened to seize me. I inhaled in the sweet aroma of the soap that still unexplainably smelled wholly better on Blackthorne Boys.

We stand there for a few minutes, crying silently, supporting and holding on to each other and I finally find my voice to whisper, "We get to go home, now." I say, but I lose my voice again, before I can tell him about Zach, so I just bury my face into him again.

"I missed you," I whisper softly, as I feel him kiss my head over and over again.

"I'm here." he tells me, "I'm not leaving." he says and this should make me happy were it not for the part of me that thinks 'but I am.'