Hello everyone! Sorry this one took so long-my free time has been non-existent over the past two weeks. Unfortunately, the next chapter is not yet written, and it will probably be short, but after that, it's all smooth sailing until the end. But hopefully you enjoy this chapter-it's not my favorite, but I wanted to include as many references to the moments that Cammie makes in the books about her childhood as possible, and I also wanted add another scene about spies being domestic. Thank you so much for sticking with this and for reading and reviewing!
By the time that Matt walked through the front door of the Morgan family's townhouse, the sky was completely dark, but it wasn't that late. He was careful to shut the door as quickly as possible to keep the cold and wind out; it was still technically fall, but as the winter solstice approached, the weather had taken a turn for the worse. Outside, it was bitterly cold and windy; even though Matt had spent his day inside at headquarters in Langley, walking through that front door was the first moment all day where Matt felt he had finally escaped the cold.
"Hey, daddy."
Cammie was sitting on the floor next to the electric fireplace, opposite the Christmas tree. She was wearing the green Christmas sweater that his mom had sent a few weeks ago, in her hand was a mug of hot chocolate, and in her lap was a book.
"Hey, Camster." He cast her a smile, and then crossed the floor through the living room into the kitchen, where the old radio that sat on the corner of the counter was playing a jazzy arrangement of one of Rachel's favorite Christmas carols. Matt set a plastic bag down on the island countertop, and then turned to look at the little shadow that had followed him in perfect silence.
"You look very nice." She said, pulling herself up to sit at the stool on the end of the island as she examined her father's new tuxedo.
"Thank you, darling." He pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head, and turned around to fix himself a glass of water from the pitcher in the fridge. Behind him, he could hear the rustling of the plastic bag.
"What's this?"
Cam was holding a black plastic box with a clear lid, like a takeout box.
"That's mom's corsage for the night, kiddo."
"What's a corsage?" She asked, leaning over and pressing her face into the clear lid to see inside the best she could.
"It's a bracelet, but it's made out of real flowers. Women wear them for special occasions."
"Why?"
"I'll be honest, kiddo, I have no idea why." Setting his glass of water aside, Matt leaned onto the island. "But this one's special." Taking the box from Cam's outstretched hand, he popped the lid off and took out the delicate construction of cream colored flowers and gold ribbon. Pulling back the petal of a gardenia, he showed Cam the tiny little wire that ran through the corsage.
"Oh." She said, looking at the wire like it was the most impressive feat of human ingenuity she had ever seen, which Matt, as her father, knew was not true. After all, Bring Your Daughter to Work Day at the CIA always involved a trip to the R&D labs, and this corsage was nothing in comparison to some of the prototypes they kept there. "Is it a comms unit?"
"It is—just the microphone, though. The ear piece is separate."
She nodded, looking like the most serious first grader Matt had ever seen.
"Do you get anything cool?" She asked, and then a little sparkle emerged in her eye, and she twisted her lips in a small, expectant smile. It was an expression, Matt thought, that Cam had stolen directly from her mother.
His smile grew wider as Matt pulled out the second box from the bag. This box was much, smaller, and made of plain black paper.
Inside were a pair of simple cufflinks, shining, polished silver. With the flourish of a magician, Matt pulled the little pin down, and revealed the ultra-thin repelling cable hidden within.
"Each one of these hides 30 feet of cable that's rated to hold up to 250 pounds."
Cam took one of the cuff links, and repeatedly, pulled the little pin to reveal the cord hidden inside.
"What are you doing tonight?" Cam asked, and just as her father sighed, she quickly added, "You can explain it to me nonspecifically. I promise I remembered that you asked me to please stop asking you and mom and Aunt Abby and your friends for classified information."
Matt scoffed.
"I only had to ask you to stop because they kept telling you. And it's a pretty simple job tonight. Mommy and I have to go undercover at a party tonight to make sure an important person stays safe."
"That sounds boring."
"If everything goes well, it should be."
"When I grow up and join the CIA, will I have to do that too?"
"Oh, you will. Everyone has to go on protection duty at some point." Matt said, watching with no little amusement as Cammie's eyes and nose scrunched up in disgust. "Hey, your mother and I have warned you. Our job can get pretty boring."
"Yeah, but are you sure you're not exaggerating?"
Matt threw his head back and laughed.
"Yes, sweetie. I promise. You have to learn to take the excitement with the boredom." Behind them, there was a pause in the music, as the next track, a jazzy arrangement of "White Christmas" started to play. "Now come on. Dance with me while we wait for mommy to get ready."
As she slipped off of the stool, Cammie looked up at her father and said with a serious face, "Earlier mommy said that it took time to achieve perfection."
Matt rolled his eyes, and wrapped one arm around his daughter's shoulders and took her outstretched hand. Cam was average sized for her age in every way, but as she delicately stood on the toes of Matt's shiny shoes in her stockinged feet, Matt realized she was getting a little too big to stand on his feet and dance in the kitchen, as they had done since she could stand. Maybe it was time to actually teach her how to dance—every spy needs to know how to waltz, after all.
"Your mommy always looks perfect, but do you want to know a secret?" Matt leaned down to look Cammie in the eye, and as he watched the conspiratorial little smirk grow across her face, he knew he had the same expression on his. "Your mom tends to overpack."
"Like on our trip to London?" Cam suggested.
"Exactly. She needs a long time to get ready because she thinks she needs to take twice as many knives as she actually needs, and needs to sew little pockets into her dress to hide them all."
"Excuse me, Matthew, but my overpacking has saved you on several occasions."
Both Cammie and Matt's heads snapped to the foot of the stairs where Rachel was standing in a burgundy silk gown, her hair curled, her makeup perfected, holding a clutch in one hand and a pair of black heels in the other.
"Like on our trip to London?" Cam suggested again, raising her eyebrows as her father brought their dancing to a halt.
"Exactly." Rachel said, her stern glare melting into a smile. "How your father managed to get a sunburn in London, of all places, I'll never know, but he was glad I'd brought the prototype burn lotion I got from the lab, wasn't he?"
"Yes, I was." Matt sighed. "Speaking of which—"
"Yes, speaking of which." Rachel said. In three long strides she joined her husband and daughter in the kitchen, her skirt billowing around her legs. She set her bag on the counter and dropped her shoes to the floor, and her stern expression returned. "Have you packed to go to Grandma and Grandpa's?"
The pointed looks from both Rachel and Matthew indicated that they each knew exactly what the answer was.
Cam frowned, and her eyes flashed with guilt.
"No." She admitted.
"Don't you think you should go do that now? We have to leave for the airport at noon tomorrow, kiddo, and I'm sure you'll want to spend all of your time asking Sarah to tell you everything about Gallagher tonight."
With a dramatic sigh and droopy, defeated look at the floor, Cam nodded, and then slowly walked to the stairs and up to her bedroom.
Her parents watched her leave. As soon as they heard footsteps on the floor above them, Rachel wrapped an arm around Matt's waist and murmured "She's too much like her father."
"She's too much like her mother." Matt retorted, gently kissing his wife on the cheek.
"What about you, have you packed?" Rachel asked, despite knowing the answer already.
Matt sighed, and replied "I have been trained by the government in the art of quickly and efficiently packing a bag—"
"Mmhmm." Rachel nodded, and then pointed at the black box on the counter. "Is that my corsage?"
Taking the tangled arrangement of flowers from the little plastic box, Matt helped Rachel tie the band about her wrist.
As she examined the little wire that was hidden between the petals, Rachel looked up at the tuxedoed man beside her, and asked, "Why do women even wear corsages?"
"They don't teach you that kind of thing at Gallagher?"
Rachel shrugged.
"I don't think so. They did tell us how to hide poisonous flowers in our corsages."
"That's probably more important." Matt admitted, leaning further against the counter.
"Do you need help with your cufflinks?" Rachel asked, after a moment.
"Always." Matt answered with a warm smile.