This is my first GG fanfic so please be kind… Takes place after book 4, though it probably won't be normal book length, but we'll see when we get there!

Disclaimer:

Psycho: *climbs on trampoline*

Me: *jumps really hard causing psycho to fall*

Psycho: What was that for?

Me: To see if you had balance!

Psycho: Why?

Me: Every Gallagher Girl has amazing balance! Except for well… Liz.

Psycho: You know you don't own the Gallagher Girls series, right?

Me: *nods sadly, sniffles* yea…

Psycho: Good.

Macey POV

I saw her. For the first time in months, I saw her. As in Cammie Morgan. The girl who had been off the grid for almost half a year. Yea, I saw her. I talked to her. But then I lost her. Again.

Okay, let me back up, this is probably sounds a little kooky. Cammie Morgan is off the grid? For half a year? But she's a Gallagher Girl! Gallagher Girls don't play hooky! Yea, I know, I know. I am one too, remember? But back to Cammie.

During finals week in June, we had planned a fun filled summer. Bex, Liz, Cammie, and I. We were going to start in Jamaica, take a plane to Moscow, then finish off in New York City. It was going to be perfect. We were all set to go, our bags packed and ready, waiting for Bex's parents to come and take us off. And when they came, Cammie was… gone. Lost. MIA. Now I know she's Cammie the Chameleon, but there was nowhere to hide in the Gallagher Academy anymore. We thought - knew - she snuck off when she said she was going to 'talk' to her mom. But we still searched the entire school, hoping to catch a glimpse of where she went. And I did. And still no one knows.

I found the journal she had left on top of the case that held Gilly's sword. I had read it cover to cover, over and over, not letting Bex or Liz know it was Cammie's. When they first questioned it, I pulled on a simple cover, saying it was some notes, preparing for next year. They questioned me every time I read it, but each time they were less and less anxious to know what it was. The first time I'd read it, I was shocked. One out the four people I had ever trusted was gone. For a long, long while.

I had cut my vacation short in Moscow, claiming I was missing the States too much. When they said they'd cut Moscow short, and we'd head for New York right away, I yelled. Louder than I'd ever yelled - even with my mom.

"I don't want you to come along!" I slammed my foot down. I was tired of them following me, asking me if I was okay. I was not okay, and yelling just felt so good. "I want to be alone! Don't you guys ever know how to leave someone alone?" I stopped before I went too far. My hands were balled up at my sides, my eyes ice, and my mouth a tight line.

"Mace, if this is about Cam…" Bex tried to say, cautiously stepping towards me.

"This is not about stupid Cammie!" I yelled back. I felt bad for calling Cammie stupid, if anything, she was the smartest person I knew - except Liz, but I'm talking operative sense. "I want to be alone. In a hotel. With nothing but ringing silence and plushy pillows. Is that too hard to understand?" I crossed my arms and stared Rebecca Baxter down, which I knew was a bad idea, but she seemed to be uncomfortable by the situation.

"Fine." Bex said, crossing her own arms and shifting her weight. "Go have your precious alone time. But if the Circle comes after to you, expecting Cammie to be with you, don't say we didn't try to protect you." She spun on her heal, and spun out of the kitchen.

"I-if you see her," Liz said, stepping forward, holding something cupped in her hands. "Give this to her." Liz placed the object in my palm, closing my fist around it. "Tell her we miss her. And that we love her."

"I will, Lizzie." Tears started to brim my eyes. Liz was so tiny, so honest. There wasn't the tiniest trace of anger in her eyes. She understood what I needed. I'm sure Bex did too, but was more concerned for my safety.

"Be careful, Macey." I smiled weakly, noticing Liz's cheeks were wet. I nodded, then strode silently toward my room, packing everything back up in my bags. If anyone was going to find Cammie, It was going to be me.

And now, almost four months since Moscow, I was in deep cover (despite my lack of CoveOps training.) I hadn't gone back to school. I hadn't called Bex or Liz, or Headmistress Morgan. No one knew where I was. Well, except me. I had taken a flight out of Moscow to Boston, taken a bus to Buffalo, hitched a ride with a newly wed couple on their way to Pennsylvania. I had done everything. Gone everywhere. I had bought a poop brown wig, chocolate brown contacts, and gotten in a tanning bed to add colour to my pale skin. I had even looked up on the internet a formula to make masks, and made an addition for my chin, making it square, instead of point and angular. I didn't even recognize myself when I look in the mirror.

And so while I walked through downtown Toronto (don't even ask how I ended up in Canada after a tour of the states) a black and white trench coat over one arm, a shopping bag on the other, I didn't expect to see her… with no cover.

Sure, her hair was cut shorter, with bangs framing her face, and bright green contacts covering her grey eyes, but she was still Cameron Ann Morgan. She was wearing a white v neck, ripped skinny jeans, and blue Chuck Taylor's. She still had that unforgettable, friendly bounce in her step that made her seem perky and normal. She was far away, not anything more than a head bobbing in the crowd. I stopped quickly, pulling the trinket out of my pocket, a scrap piece of paper, and a pen. I scribbled down a simple spy message, then slipped the pen back in my pocket and kept walking.

I weaved through the people flooding the sidewalks, making sure I'd pass Cammie on my way. I didn't know much about brush passes, but I guess now was the time to learn. I altered my pace, to make sure my arm would connect with hers as I passed. It seemed to go by in slow motion. My shoulder bumped hers, then my elbow, my wrist, and finally, my hand. I pressed the figurine into her palm, tucking the paper between her fingers. I felt her cold fingers respond, curling over mine as I pulled away. I looked up slightly to see her nod ever so slightly, as if she could see through my cover, and maybe she could.

To her I wasn't Marie Wangcast, intern secretary at the Toronto Star, I was Macey McHenry, clinging to her cover until the end. But then I realized the look in her eyes wasn't recognition. She just thought I was a spy with a message. She thought I was just a normal, undercover spy, not one of the people who knew her best.

And somehow, that was better than being Macey.

Cammie POV

I'd blown it.

I thought today was going to be a regular day, not a tail in sight, not a suspicious person for miles. I thought today would be okay not to wear my long, itchy blonde wig. I thought the cost was clear. But even a Gallagher Girl can be wrong.

I was walking down Bloor street, in the heart of Toronto, enjoying one of my last days here before I took off for Roseville, Virginia. I liked Canada, it was so simple here. Everyone moved at a steady pace, no one ever looking at me twice as they passed. But then I spotted her - a girl with ugly brown hair, and a thick chin. I almost laughed at what Macey would say if she saw her. Thinking of Macey made me sad, but I shook it off. No doubt the girl before me was an operative. A pavement artist. A spy. She stopped for a full thirty seconds, scribbling furious on a piece of paper. I watched her weave through the stream of people, slowing down the slightest as her arm brushed against mine, and she placed an item in my palm. I wrapped my fingers around it, nodding when she looked up for conformation. She had a familiar twinkle in her soft brown eyes, but I pushed it aside and kept walking.

After stopping at a bus station, and catching a ride back to the hotel I was staying at, I couldn't wait to find out what she had given me. Had my mother found me? Was that her, or Abby, or an operative sent by either of them? Was it someone from the Circle, giving me a warning before their attack? Was she a Gallagher Girl? Did she want me to come home? Was she carrying a message from… Zach? Had he found me? Was he going to try and be my hero again? Or was I just paranoid and she was an operative who mixed me up with someone else?

I sighed and ran a hand through my short hair. I unlocked the door to my room, and slipped inside, going straight for the bed, where I would curl up with a pillow, and figure out what was in my hand. I crossed my legs, and took deep breaths, preparing myself for whatever it was. Fear will not control my life. Fear will not control my life. I opened my palm and stared at the little figurine. It was a of four girls, all in plaid skirts, vests, and white button downs. One had dark, copper skin, with long, chestnut hair. Number two was tiny and blonde, though the brown eyes looked big and dough-like. Third was a lean girl with longs legs and shining black hair. And last was an average girl - dirty blonde hair, grey eyes, forgettable face. They were Gallagher Girls. They were my friends and I. They were my sisters. I wiped away a tear, then set the little statue on the bedside table. I flipped over the scrap of paper, looking at the familiar scrawl across it, with words that made me wonder what I was getting myself into.

Chameleon.

Oh how wonderful it was to meet you! I had a splendid

time at the press conference last week! It's hard without

Charlie, but you rock! Remember that tomorrow

you work until seven! Tootles!

Peacock.

I stared at the sheet confused. One, I don't have a job. Two, tootles? But then my spy brain started to put the coded message together. Every seven words were the words I needed. The message. So basically it said: Chameleon, Meet at Hard Rock, seven. Peacock. I stared at my ceiling. Macey had found me. Macey had tracked me. Macey wanted to talk to me. I wasn't the only Gallagher Girl playing hooky. But then I remembered who gave me the note and object. Why was her cover so… un-Macey? She would be what I'm dressed as, not that! But I guess that's the thing, going in a cover you would obviously think twice about. That's how I'd chosen mine after all.

I wore a blonde wig, green contacts, and made my skin colour more pale. I had a spray of cute freckles across my nose, and I always wore a lot of mascara. I wore a lot of pink, a lot of girly clothes, and I mostly wore two inch heels. I went by Tabitha Richards. I was a student in college, studying Canadian architecture. I was someone I never wanted or hoped to be. And that's how being a pavement artist works.

So that's why, at six PM, I was slipping on a sparkly, black cocktail dress, and two inch, gold peep toes. I tied my hair back in a tight bun, then begun my facial transformation from a forgettable face to a blonde-haired, green eyed Macey McHenry. I looked at myself in the bedrooms full-length mirror, making sure there wasn't a curl out of place, or a freckle not painted. I smiled my toothy smile, and grabbed my gold clutch, heading towards the elevators.

As I strutted into the Hard Rock Café, I spotted the girl from this morning right away. The ugly brown hair was held back by a bright yellow, floral head band. Her makeup was crap - well GOOD for her cover - and her frumpy yellow dress didn't show off the curves Macey McHenry had at all. In other words; Macey was one of the best, un-trained in CoveOps, spies I'd ever known. She didn't recognize me at first, but her eyes stripped me of the blonde wig, freckles, contacts, and everything on me that wasn't me, and she started flailing her arm in my direction. I smiled wide, then began my strut towards her. When I passed a cute, black haired waiter, I winked. When I passed a table of elderly woman, I smiled wide. But when I reached the table that held a Gallagher Girl in as equally deep cover as I, I slumped down in the seat, and stared at the unfamiliar face expectantly.

"Thanks for coming." She spoke, in a scratchy, Southern accent. "I didn't think you were going to show."

"I wouldn't miss it!" I made my voice an octave higher, and beamed at my perfect best friend disguised as a not-so-perfect woman. And maybe what I just said was the most truthful thing in months. The black haired waiter I'd winked at, came up to our table then, a knowing twinkle in his dark, dark blue eyes. He glanced quickly at Macey, then looked over and held my gaze. I started to heat up. He was staring at me like I was the only one there. Maybe this cover did have that affect on boys.

He ordered our drinks, then strode off, and there was something about his stride that I couldn't quite place. I turned back to Macey, staring at the giant flower on her headband.

"So what do you do?" I asked in a perky voice, as if we were long lost best friends, and I guess in a way we were.

"I work at the Star." She said, giving me a small smile. She looked around the room, as if worried what people thought of her. Maybe that was part of her cover. "What about you?"

"No job." I didn't smile, just tried to read my best friends face. But she was good. She wasn't showing any Macey feelings. She was clinging to her cover until the end. She nodded slightly, then straightened when the waiter came with our drinks. Ordering our food, I kept locking eyes with him, and flirting. It was part of my cover after all. Be someone unlike yourself. After he left, I put my elbows on the table and leaned forward. "What's your cover?" I lowered my voice so much, I almost didn't hear it. But Macey was a Gallagher Girl, so of course she heard it too.

"Marie Wangcast." She stated, using the same volume I did. "Intern secretary at the Toronto Star, just moved up from South Dakota, using half my pay check to bring the rest of my family up." She leaned in closer. "And I hate the colour green." I threw my head back in a bubbly laugh, as if 'Marie' had just told an old joke and I couldn't hold my laughter back. "What about you?" She leaned in to my ear. "Ms. Morgan?" I cocked a smile.

"Tabitha Richards, college student studying architecture, using a loan from the bank to pay for schooling and my hotel room" I smiled smugly, then leaned in close like she had. "And I hate frumpy yellow dresses." Macey let out a little, breathy laugh. I leaned back and watched her eyes dance over my shoulder and target something.

"First of all," She said, her brown eyes wide. "Solomon, ten o'clock." I looked in the reflective napkin dispenser, and sure enough, Mr. Solomon was entering the restaurant, making a beeline for the bar area. "Second, that waiter is totally checking you out." I spun around at that, after all, a normal girl would if her friend told her a boy was checking her out. My eyes landed on the dark haired, dark eyed waiter, who was leaning against the doors to the kitchen staring at me, as if he knew my secrets. My worst secrets.

"I'll be right back." I said flatly, taking the napkin off my lap and placing it on the table. Macey nodded, and I started to weave through the crowd. I kept my gaze on the waiter, who held it and stared back. A small smirk crept onto his features, and I didn't even want to know what was going through the boys mind. I made it to him, and stood close, letting the Chanel perfume I wore tickle his nose.

"Hi," His smirk deepened as he looked me up and down. I mentally shuddered in disgust. I plastered a bubbly smile on my face, and walk my fingers up his arm. "What can I do for you?" He seemed like a player to me. His tone was dripping sexy, and the way he was staring at me made me know he wanted to pounce on me right then and there.

"Oh, I was just thinking," I rest my hand on his chest, lowering my tone to be sexy and smooth. "We could play a little game." I spun on my heel and walked towards the front door of the restaurant. I heard his pace behind me, and I listened for it until I was almost a block away from the restaurant. I stopped, propping myself up against a wall, the rough stone making my skin dance.

"Why out here?" He asked, the lust from his voice gone, taking on a darker tone. I knew I should've been scared of him, but I still let him rest his hands on the wall beside either side of my head. I snaked my arms around his neck, pressing close to him.

"Because I'm tired of being the odd one out." I traced my finger down the line of his black button down. Bystanders gave us a 'get a room' look, and I knew that was what I wanted.

"What do you mean?" He raised an eyebrow at me, and started to twirl a fly away strand from my wig.

"I want answers." I said smoothly, slipping my hands into the boys back pockets. "And I want them now." The boy shook his head, leaning in closer, his breath sweeping over me, smelling of Pepsi Lime.

"I don't think that's a good idea." The boy whispered in my ear, before kissing my jaw line and pulling back.

"Well I think it's perfect." I pulled in closer to whisper in his ear. "I have a highly trained operative back in that restaurant. I think you may know him. He goes by Solomon. Joe Solomon. And I also have an undercover best friend in there too."

"McHenry?" I could hear a smile in his voice. I nodded, breathing in his ear to make him shiver. His arms moved from the wall to my waist, holding me to him.

"So if you just can tell me what I need to know, I won't need to call for them." Calling for Joe Solomon when he had no idea I was there frightened me, and I guess the boy sensed it. I could almost hear the smile in his voice as he said:

"We both know you shouldn't do that, Gallagher Girl."

So I had to put a little Zammie in this chapter… I know they're following covers, and they probably wouldn't actually do that, but it was fun to write. So I hope you enjoy this! It'll probably be a more Macey/Cammie story, though I do promise to add Zammie every where I can! I don't intend on making this a long story, just more of something to do while I struggle with writers block for my Darkest Powers Fan Fiction. So R&R and all that jazz… I'll probably update soon, I'm enjoying this story :D

Spy On!

~Rae