I do not own Gallagher Girls.

.Interrogation.

When Zachary Goode opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was black.

His eyes were blindfolded, he judged. The material was rough and inscrutable, successfully masking his vision. As he floated into consciousness, the aching in various spots of his body was disturbing and unfamiliar, just like the blindfold. Resisting an exasperated sigh, he narrowed his kidnapping down to one thing: Cove Ops test. Wonderful.

Suspicions were confirmed when the blindfold was ripped off, leaving his stinging eyes to readjust swiftly and take in the ancient, spider-web infested room and serious face of Joe Solomon. Zach ran a hand through his hair and cracked a grin, managing to conjure an easy, "Nice to see you, Mr. Solomon."

Zach was half-surprised to find himself perched on an uncomfortable wooden chair -- not bound or gagged, just sitting as if everything were perfectly normal. As if his Cove Ops teacher kidnapped him every night and dragged him to a dusty old room with one door and no windows.

"Zach," he acknowledged the teenager with a nod, his green eyes shadowed as he sighed.

He took a seat across from the teenager in a cushioned, comfortable seat. As the silence stretched, Zach finally broke it with a slightly impatient, "So, was there a particular reason you decided to kidnap me in the middle of the night?"

Joe Solomon nodded curtly. "You've been getting close to Cammie, Zach."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a statement.

No, it was plainly an accusation.

"Sure," he smirked cheekily, eyes dancing. "You could say that."

Zach may have agreed with his Cove Ops teacher, but that really didn't explain why they were having this conversation. I could be sleeping right now, he thought, a little ruffled. Solomon rolled his eyes moodily and fixed Zach with a dark glare.

"Cammie's my goddaughter. Did you know that?"

The question was bordering rhetorical; Joe Solomon knew how many contacts Zachary Goode had. He would surely have known, no matter that the information wasn't disclosed to the majority of the population. He was a bit astonished when Zach blinked and replied steadily, "No."

If it weren't for the years of training and discipline under Joe Solomon's belt, he would've sworn the boy was lying…that, or he had overestimated him. "You're losing your touch," he noted.

Zach made no witty remark. Instead, he gazed at Mr. Solomon with a resigned, fidgety attitude. The easy, casual stance had been straightened, and he sat up stiffly. "Why am I here, Solomon?" he questioned, voice monotone and robotic.

"You're here because I don't trust you."

Disbelieving blink. "You don't trust me?" an incredulous, breathy laugh escaped the student's lips.

Joe Solomon's flinty green eyes hardened and cooled as he nodded, his eyebrows twitching together intensely. "You could break her so easily, Goode," he murmured, more to himself than the dark-haired brunette across the room from him.

Zach shook his head, halfway disgusted and very disbelieving of the older man's blindness. "I'm out of here," he mumbled, springing from his chair and making for the closed door on the other side of the room swiftly. Joe stopped him with one raised hand; a slightly puzzled look gracing his rugged features.

"Give me one good reason I should trust you."

The emerald-eyed boy turned on his heel slowly, his eyes colliding with his favorite teacher's. Green on green, they stared for a full heartbeat before Zach's strained, almost inaudible whisper sliced into the silence…

"Because I love her."