So, this is it. The last one. I hope that you lovely readers have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have writing it. Thank you for reading and all the reviews.

keep calm and read on;

I don't know how I managed it, but the eulogy was written. Luckily, just in time too, because by the time I finished it to the point where I didn't want to incinerate the paper, it was time to get dressed and deliver the eulogy.

I guess that knowing Zach wasn't really dead helped in writing his eulogy.

Bex, Liz, Macey, and I met up at my place, so we could carpool to the Agency. (We all struggled to see who would be driving, but the three of us agreed that Bex should not be driving as we planned on attending the memorial alive.) I didn't tell them about Zach, I didn't tell anyone. I don't really know why, but … I guess it was just because Zach had said goodbye to me, and only me, and I didn't want that to change.

By the time we got to the Agency, we made our rounds, greeting the families of those who now are just a name on the wall. After a while, Mom stood up on the podium, and spoke into the microphone, welcoming everyone and introducing me.

I felt myself walking up to the podium, clutching the paper in my hand. I gulped nervously. I was never any good at public speaking.

"U-um, hello, my name is Cammie Morgan. A lot of you may know me as the girl who was Anne St. James. But, um, I'm not anymore."

Wow, this would be interesting. Did I even write that?

"First of all, I just want to thank all of you for coming, and not to be taken the wrong way, I wish you didn't have to be here. I wish I didn't have to be up here either, giving a eulogy for the newest addition to the CIA Memorial Wall, Zachary Goode."

The audience was silent, while I continued. "I'll be honest. When I first got asked to write a eulogy for Zach, I didn't really know how to feel. I didn't know if I should feel sad he was gone, flattered that they thought I knew him well enough to give him a eulogy, but I was stumped."

"I did know Zach, but I'm not sure I really knew him. I didn't know his favourite color, what he liked to do, his history. All I knew about this boy was that he was a bit of a cocky, sarcastic bastard who was a bit of an egomaniac."

Some members of the audience looked appalled and started whispering to the person beside them while I hurried to add, "I know that's not what you'd usually say in a eulogy – you have to speak kindly of the dead, conjure up fond memories of them so they can be remembered for the good they did."

"But that's the thing. He was all this and more, and yet … I still liked him. I may not have known him, but I know that underneath that egotistical bastard side of his, is a good person who worked to bring evil down."

"That's what they all have in common," I gestured to the wall behind me, the names of dead agents engraved on it, "They were all people who died for their country because they believed in good and fought to preserve it. They did so many good things, and I wish the whole world knew of what they did, like a fairytale."

Some members looked confused and I explained, "In fairytales, it's simple – good defeats evil, the good guy lives to tell the tale and is famous for the difference he makes. All is well and everyone lives happily ever after. But this is reality. Sometimes, good defeats evil and lives to see the effect his actions have on it. There's no such thing as a happily ever after."

"So that's why this wall exists. Because living as part of an Agency who works to protect the security of this country, it means that you live anonymously. You die anonymously, and your name is forgotten afterward. This wall gives us the opportunity to thank them, to remember them, to say goodbye to them."

I looked at Mom and the girls and they were smiling, so I took it as a good sign and continued to the end, "So to all these people on the wall, thank you for everything. And I'm sorry you didn't get your fairytale."

I smiled politely and walked off the stage into my seat, waiting until the memorial was over.

The rest of the memorial was pretty much just walking around to different families, making small talk, enjoying the refreshments. After about two hours, everyone left, except for me, the girls and Mom.

Mom had organized this, and I knew she needed help cleaning up afterward.

Macey and Bex carried off the tables to the storage room and Liz and my mom went to look for brooms and mops.

I was in charge of clearing tables—putting the appetizers back, cleaning up juice spills—when I heard footsteps from behind me, getting closer.

"Excuse me, miss," the male voice was Scottish, judging from his accent. Probably from Edinburgh.

"Yes?" I turned around to face him. A man with pure white hair, matching eyebrows faced me as well.

"That was a lovely eulogy." He remarked, "It was very grateful."

"Oh, thank you," I smiled back.

"The way you made out that Zach lad seemed very…"

"Rude?" I offered.

"Realistic."

"Oh, um…" What was I supposed to say to that?

"That part comparing reality vs. fairytales was particularly my favorite." His smile reached his eyes, which seemed to be squinting at me, magnified through his glasses. "I was wondering how you thought of that."

"Um, a friend helped me think of it."

"Must be a very smart lad." He commented.

"I guess you could say that."

He spun on his heel, walking away from me. "Tell me, Miss Morgan, do you believe in fairytales?"

I looked down, smirking to myself when I yelled out to him. "You know, you never were any good at a Scottish accent."

He turned again, this time facing me. I walked up to him, took off his glasses and stared at his familiar brown eyes. And I knew, that even though I wouldn't be able to see him, I would see him. I knew I'd run into him during missions, maybe in the park. I guess I did know Zachary Goode, and I knew he couldn't stay away.

I knew myself—I knew that I wouldn't just see him, I would be looking for him. He may be hiding, but I knew I would seek him.

"Cam?" Bex called out, "We could use some help here!"

"Coming!" I replied, not taking my eyes off his. It seemed like time stopped because we were just looking at each other, until I broke the trance and started to walk away from him.

"I'll be seeing you," he said.

"I'll be waiting." I walked away from the room before I realized I forgot something. I walked back, saw him standing in the middle of the room and I piped up again.

"To answer your question … no, I don't believe in fairytales." I channelled him with a smirk, and proceeded to quote him, "We're spies. We don't get fairytales."

And with that, this story now goes from "In Progress" to "Complete".

Thank you again for reading. I love all of you dearly.

Also, do not think I am going away. I do have plans for writing a new story about Gallagher Girls. Zach x Cammie, obviously, but it's an AU story and doesn't really follow a plotline.

It's just going to be a collection of oneshots in the lives of Zach and Cammie, regular teenage best friends. If you'd like, please give it a look once I've started it. ;)

Alright, thank you (again). I'm sorry for all the thank yous.

don't forget to be awesome;
-S