AN: Hey friends!

So, I don't know about you all, but I have always been curious about Rachel, Joe, and Matthew's past. I'm being so serious when I say that if Ally Carter ever came out with any type of canon short story about their lives before Cammie's birth and Matthew's death, I would simply pass away. Just saying. Anyway, this is just some small attempt at filling in a bit of that mysterious past for us. Hope you like it!

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: Ally Carter owns the characters and the Gallagher Girl universe.


Joe is grateful for the desk that sits between him and the director of the CIA. He just got back from an op, and while his mind knows he's back on his home turf, his body can't seem to get the memo. No matter how hard he tries, he can't keep his leg from subtly, yet rapidly, bouncing.

Normally, when Joe returns from his missions, he hands in his field report then immediately seeks out the nearest gym to exhaust his adrenaline before the director calls him back to debrief. This time he deviated from his routine, choosing instead to go along with his temporary partner's preferred method of post-op relaxation: pizza and ice cream. Enjoyable, but ineffective.

A graceful and feminine hand reaches across the space between their two chairs and rests delicately on his jittering knee. Joe freezes, completely. His leg stops bouncing, his lungs stop breathing, and his heart even stops beating for the space of a moment. Joe looks at the innocent hand then follows the connecting arm up to the woman beside him. She isn't looking at him or smiling. Her expression is neutral and focused as she listens to the director and answers her questions. Joe is halfway to convincing himself that the touch was an accident when the slender fingers give the gentlest of squeezes, which of course just causes everything that stopped—his leg, lungs, and heart—to start up again, in earnest this time.

Joe gives the hand a reassuring pat so that she'll withdraw. Her attempt at a calming touch is like the junk food, enjoyable but ineffective.

Two months ago, when Joe received this assignment, he was told that his contact was a graduate from the Gallagher Academy for Exceptional Young Women. All Joe thought at the time—beyond what a mouthful—was that Tim had been right. His old classmate from his days at Blackthorne had always been going on about one conspiracy theory or another, and one of those theories had been that there was a top-secret spy school for girls somewhere in the suburbs of Virginia.

He owed Tim ten bucks.

On the plane ride to their designated meeting spot, Joe did his research. His clearance level was decent, so he had access to most of the academy's basic information. When he exhausted that avenue, he started hacking. He didn't get very far, though, before the school's system booted him out and installed a virus on his laptop, one he then spent the rest of the long flight cleansing from his software.

By the time Joe stepped down onto the tarmac and settled himself in the waiting car, he'd taken the school's, and consequently his contact's, measure and he knew them to be lacking. As far as he could tell, the Gallagher Academy was just a bunch of school girls in plaid skirts and blazers, living in a fancy mansion, with classes about culture and tea and calligraphy. Perhaps he wasn't being fair in his assessment because of his annoyance with the whole virus thing, but still, he found it hard to believe that a place that more closely resembled a finishing school than a spy school would produce capable agents.

Then he met Rachel Cameron.

From the get-go and over the course of their mission, she routinely impressed him in a professional capacity. She was observant and patient and focused and knowledgeable, and she exuded a confidence in her capabilities that spoke louder than any words could. She was good and saying it out loud would've made it an understatement.

Joe, during his few years in the field, had often witnessed competence like hers turn into cockiness, but Rachel was also humble enough to acknowledge her own weaknesses. She knew when to take point and when the situation called for Joe to lead. At first, this was communicated through words, then through looks, then not at all—they simply knew their respective roles because they knew each other. Working alongside her quickly became as natural and easy as breathing.

It didn't hurt that Rachel was also very easy on the eyes.

It took Joe less than a second to notice that she was beautiful. It took less than a day to realize she was the kind of woman you could easily fall in love with if you weren't careful. And it took less than a month for Joe to acknowledge that he hadn't been careful.

He tried to keep his feelings toward Rachel strictly professional. He called her "Agent Cameron," even in his head. He took care not to touch her or look at her (at least not for too long) when the mission called for close quarters or slinky dresses or, Lord help him, both at the same time. He even tried to find her idiosyncrasies—like the fact that she couldn't cook to save her life or often used their untraceable but not unlimited credit card to buy M&Ms—annoying.

He would've had better luck telling a lonely moth, born and raised in the darkness, not to be drawn to the brightest and most beautiful light it had ever seen.

She loved to laugh and would tease him every time he called her "Agent Cameron." She could hold a conversation for hours, and she could make the long silences they maintained while watching their marks comfortable. Her anger was always quick to fizzle out, and her determination quick to ignite. Her smiles came easily and often.

Being around her was like constantly being bathed in the sun. And Joe was one helpless moth.

Just a few weeks into their assignment and Joe couldn't deny it anymore: he was in love with Rachel Cameron. He thought the internal confession would twist his stomach with dread or crush his chest with the heavy weight of anxiety. But instead, it felt like a weight was lifted, and all Joe could feel…was light.

He couldn't say anything while they were in the field, of course. And even now, as the director dismisses them and the two stand to leave, he isn't sure if he should say anything. Certainly not everything he's feeling; he'll sound like a crazy, lovesick puppy. But surely asking her to dinner wouldn't hurt. He'll just have to be sure he asks her in such a way that she knows it's a date since they've shared so many meals as co-workers already.

He's just working up the nerve to do so when she stops him with a hand on his arm. "Hey," she says, looking up at him with genuine concern, "you doing okay?"

"Fine," he says with a smile. "Why do you ask?"

"You just seemed distracted in there. And I know the director noticed it, too, since you weren't answering any of her questions. I had to do all the talking."

"Maybe she'll just think you're an incorrigible chatterbox."

"Or maybe she'll think you're losing it and make you go through a mandatory psych eval."

Joe shrugs. "I'd pass."

"Right," Rachel says, patting his shoulder. "I'll be sure to visit you in your padded cell."

Joe chuckles and leans back against the hallway's wall. "Just promise you'll slip me some of those chocolate pastries we had at that cafe in Dubai and I'll be fine."

"Oh, my gosh." Rachel's eyelids flutter as if in ecstasy. "Those pastries were so good. We have to go back some day."

Joe bites the inside of his cheek to keep from beaming. She said "we," as in the two of them going on an international trip to a cafe…together. That's a good indicator she's interested, right?

"But seriously, Joe," she says, sobering with a gentle smile. "You're good?"

Joe thought he managed to avoid answering that question, but Rachel is just too caring, not to mention too hypervigilant, to let a subject change distract her for long.

"Just left over adrenaline." Not a lie. "I usually work it out of my system before seeing the director after a mission. But…"

Rachel gasps and brings a hand to her mouth. "But I stuffed you with carbs and sugar instead."

Joe smiles at her unnecessary guilt. "I didn't mind."

"I totally made it worse."

"Hey." Joe pushes himself off the wall and takes a step closer. "No harm, no foul."

"You won't be saying that when you're in a strait jacket. You'll be cursing my name then."

He laughs, again. He's doing that more and more around her. She's so funny without even trying. It charms the hell out of him.

"The director isn't worried about my mental state," Joe tells her. "She's just glad all of the mission's objectives were accomplished quickly and efficiently."

"Oh, yeah," Rachel muses. "We did do that, didn't we? Dang, we're good."

Joe's about to jokingly agree and try his luck with a gym invite when he notices Rachel leaning forward. His heart does something painful as he realizes she is going to kiss him. As she lifts herself up onto her toes, he can hardly breathe, much less decide if he should bend down and meet her halfway or grab onto her to hold her steady. A fresh spike of anxiety stabs his gut as he considers the topic of hand placement.

Before he can make any decisions, it's already over. Rachel's soft, warm lips rest on his cheek for half a breath, then she steps away. Joe wants to pull her back, to kiss her properly. But he knows he can't.

He also knows he'll be kicking himself for the rest of his life for not doing it anyway.

"We make a good team, don't we, Joe?" she says with an excited smile. They just got back, but Rachel looks ready for more. She looks as if this has been only the first of countless adventures they will go on. Joe hopes that is the case.

Maybe the moment isn't over. Maybe he can still make that kiss happen. He takes a step closer. "I certainly think so. Rachel, you–"

Rachel lets out a gasp then a high-pitched squeal. He isn't sure what he's done or said to get this response, but…Rachel's eyes aren't on him. They're looking at something over his shoulder.

Joe spins, his training kicking in. They're in the heart of the CIA, but Joe of all people knows a little something about double agents, and he isn't about to take any chances.

But there's no threat behind him. There's just–

"Matthew!" Rachel yells. She runs past Joe, throws herself into Matt's arms, and kisses him. Not a delicate, barely-there kiss on the cheek. But a mouth-on-mouth, I'm-so-in-love-I-can-hardly-stand-it kind of kiss.

Joe can almost feel the crush of something important inside him as the shock gives way to a hurt that surprises him in its intensity. He marvels for a moment at how his distress can cause physical pain as acute and stinging as a knife wound to bloom in his chest.

His operative brain quickly tries to take over as if the scene before him is an enemy that has already managed to land a disorienting punch. To block the next blow, it supplies him with words like, you've only known her for two months, and she never gave any indication she likes you romantically anyway, or your own feelings are just made up of adrenaline and shared life-or-death experiences. But his mind and his body still must be suffering from connectivity issues because he can't catch his breath, his stomach is churning, and the tips of his fingers are starting to go numb within his clenched fists.

The couple eventually breaks apart, but only at the mouth. Matt still has his arms around Rachel's waist, and Rachel keeps her hands on Matt's chest as she stares up at him adoringly. They remain in their own little bubble for a few moments more, whispering "I missed yous" and "I love yous" to each other. All while Joe fights the urge to punch his best friend in the face.

He settles for loudly clearing his throat.

"Solomon!" Matt exclaims as Rachel moves to tuck herself into his side. "I see you managed to come back in one piece."

Joe crosses his arms and pastes on the best dispassionate smile he can manage. "Only thanks to Rachel." His eyes flick to her. "How many times did you save my neck, again?"

"Oh, I'm sure it was only one or two times." She looks up at Matt. "Joe is an excellent spy, you know."

"You aren't so bad yourself, babe."

"So," Joe says quickly before the two of them can get lost in each other's eyes again. "I didn't realize that Rachel here was the mystery girlfriend you've been telling me about."

Matt rubs the back of his neck and smiles apologetically. "I've been wanting to introduce you, trust me. I only didn't at first because the relationship was so new. Then there was that mission you took in Siberia that lasted, what? Five months? And you know I was gone during the time between that op and this one. The timing has just never worked out," he finishes with a chuckle.

"You could've at least told me I'd be partnering with her on this one, sans formal introduction." Joe cocks a teasing eyebrow and forces a smirk, all to hide the fact that what he really wants to do is scream these words at Matt. If he knew then what he knows now…

"It was my idea," Rachel says with the slightest note of concern in her voice, and Joe wants to kick himself for not leaving well enough alone. How could he forget that he and Rachel know each other all too well? Despite his best efforts, she can tell he's displeased about something. He just hopes that she can't even begin to guess at the specifics.

"I asked Matthew not to tell you," she continues. "I didn't want you to see me as your best friend's girlfriend, someone you needed to take special care to look after or whatever. I just wanted to be another agent." She takes a step toward Joe and looks at him contritely. "I'm sorry if the deception hurt you."

That's…it? That's the reason? She didn't want him to see her as his best friend's girlfriend? Well, mission freaking accomplished. Now look where they are. Or, Joe supposes, look where he is. This problem, these feelings, are now his to deal with. Alone.

"Please," Joe says with a wave of his hand and a laugh. "I'm just upset I missed out on the best opportunity I'll ever get to bash Matt to his girlfriend." He winks at Rachel. "Now you'll never get to know all his dark and dirty secrets."

Rachel smiles and Joe lets out a breath, relieved to have successfully navigated that tense moment.

"Whatever," Matt says with an eye roll. "I have no dark and dirty secrets…I mean, beyond the obvious classified ones."

Rachel turns to him with a flirtatious head tilt. "That so? Maybe I should request that Joe and I be partnered on another mission so I can find out for sure."

Matt takes hold of her hands and pulls her close. "Or maybe you should let me take you to dinner right now, and I'll tell you anything you want to know."

"Mmm." She pretends to mull it over. "That sounds perfect."

The couple quickly gets sucked back into each other's orbit, and this time Joe decides not to mess with gravity. Unfortunately, he can't deny that they look good together. They look comfortable and happy. They look like forever.

And it's at that moment Joe realizes, with a heavy sense of dread, that he will have to lie to his best friend for the rest of his life.

Good thing he is such an excellent spy.


AN: Thank you so much for reading this GG one-shot! If you're feeling so inclined, let me know what you thought in an encouraging comment or helpful critique.

I would particularly love some feed back on the characters (you know, just in case I decide I want to write another one of these pre-GG one-shots). I know they aren't exactly 100% in character, but we can hardly expect an early 20s Joe and Rachel to speak and act the same as an early 40s Joe and Rachel, now can we? But if there was anything that was said or done that made you go, "WHAT? He/She would never do that!", then let a sister know:)

Anyway, hope y'all have a great day today!

Much love, Rachel