Well, this is it. The last chapter. I must say, I have sincerely enjoyed writing this story and I really wish that I could write a sequel to it, but I just don't see how that would work lol. Thank you so much to my readers and I really hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

33.

"And that's the full story?" the man with salt and pepper hair asked, eyeing me with somber brown eyes.

"Yes," I replied. The voice stress analyzer made noise. I wasn't lying. I had been telling my story for three full hours, answering all sorts of questions and now, it seemed, I was done.

He nodded and stood, beginning to unhook the wires from me. "Very well. You may go, Miss Goode." Never had I felt so wonderful to be called a Goode. Something about it just felt right.

"Thank you," I said as I stood and walked out the door. My head felt loads better from the medication they had given me before I'd been forced to debrief and I didn't feel the least bit sleepy. I reached up to re-fix my ponytail and had just tied it when I was pulled into a tight hug. My mother's voice said, "Thank God you're okay!" and I could smell her overbearing perfume.

"Cammie, let her breathe," my dad's voice said softly.

My mom stepped away from me, smiling sheepishly, and I saw everyone else. My mom, dad, Grandma and Grandpa Morgan, and Uncle Solomon and Aunt Abby. My dad was close to me, looking at me and telling me silently that I got to initiate any moves, any conversations. He knew what it was like to come back from a mission and he knew what it was like to see things or know things that you really wish you didn't. He'd been through it all and he would be able to help me through it.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said honestly. "I'm sorry for everything."

He smiled at me. "Me too."

I ran into his arms and he held me tightly. Something about the familiar smell of him comforted me and I cried silently against his light blue polo. I could hear my mom talking with her parents about how she and dad were going to move me back into their house for a while and Uncle Solomon and Aunt Abby were talking about me, wondering about my wellbeing. My spy-trained ears picked up everything.

When I pulled away, I asked, "Can I talk to you alone for a sec?"

My dad nodded and gestured to the empty hall. We headed down towards the end, both of us ignoring the looks we were getting, and when we reached it, he faced me and looked at me with concern. "You alright?"

I shrugged. "Just a concussion. I'm fine."

He nodded slowly. "What happened?"

And then, I told him everything. It took me less time that it had taken to tell the guy that debriefed me, and yet, my dad and I had to move to sit down on a bench because it took nearly half an hour. The rest of the family had gone away, presumably to the cafeteria or maybe home. I didn't care.

After I finished my tale, my dad asked, "So it's over now? Both of them are dead?"

"I guess so," I said, feeling pain for Nate all over again. "I should have listened to you," I told him honestly. "I should have listened to everyone when they were telling me that I was fragile. I shouldn't have let him in so easily."

"We all make mistakes," my dad said easily, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his chest. "I've made more than I can even begin to count and so has your mother. Your grandparents have, too, I know, and even your Aunt Abby and Uncle Solomon. All spies make them."

"This was a huge one," I muttered.

He let em sit upright again and then he said, "Look at me."

I blinked back tears and then our identical eyes found each other. "Layla Alana Goode, you're not stupid. You're a very intelligent young lady that made a mistake. But, you know what? You're strong, and I know that you'll pull through this. And you have a wonderful mother, amazing grandparents, an eccentric aunt, and a very wise uncle to help you through this. And, best of all, you have a wonderfully amazing – not to mention humble – dad. I'm always here for you, kiddo. No matter what."

I let the tears run down my face as he pulled me in for another hug. Everything that he had said was true and I knew that. I wasn't stupid; I had just made a mistake. And that mistake would make me stronger and next time, I would be ready.

"I'm so proud of you," he said as I pulled away and sat up. "You know that, right? I've always been proud of you."

"Always?" I asked, remembering the times that I'd lied to him or the times that I had yelled at him in anger.

He smiled and nodded. "Disappointed sometimes, maybe. But I've always been proud of you. And I've always loved you more than anything else in my life. You're my only daughter and you're my world. You and your mother. You know that, right?"

I smiled. "Yeah, Dad. I know that."

He kissed my forehead quickly. "Good." Then, he stood. "We should get going. I bet your mother went on home and we should meet her there."

I stood with him and we began walking towards the exit. We were almost there when I said, "It's happened, you know."

"What's happened?" he asked, glancing at me as we stepped off of the elevator.

"What I've wanted to happen all along," I said nonchalantly, heading for the sliding doors.

"And what would that be?"

I looked at him as if surprised that he hadn't figured it out. "You don't think that everyone's going to be talking about this for years to come?"

He stopped, his expression portraying his confusion. "Well, yes, of course they are. What you went through, what you did…it's pretty amazing."

"Good," I smiled. "That means that I've made my name."

"Your whole purpose was to make a name?" he asked with a smirk.

"Not just any name," I corrected as I watched a group of three women watching me, obviously whispering about me. I looked back at my dad and gave him the signature Goode smirk. "My name."