A/N Hi everybody. So I hope you enjoy this. No, I don't need counselling. Please review, favorite and follow.

Zach's POV:

Cammie's dead.

The words play over and over again in my head as I lie in bed, unable to find the strength to get out. Run away with me. What had I been thinking? It is my fault she is gone. I gave her the idea to leave and now she is dead. I want to die. I deserve to die. Late last night, Macey and Bex came into my room and put a black suit at the end of my bed. I won't put it on, not today. I can't. There is no way I am going. Even as I tell myself this I know that at some point I will be forced to get out of bed. At some point I'll have to face the grief stricken faces of my friends and of Cammie's relatives. Ms. Morgan, Joe and Abby have been inconsolable. At least they have been keeping it together, unlike me. Somebody is banging on my door. Bex. I'd jammed the lock so it will be hard for her to get in.

"Zach, you open this door right now." She shouts.

I say something really creative like, "No."

"You are not missing Cammie's funeral. She would never forgive you if you did and what's more is that she deserves for you to be there. Open the door."

I don't respond and tears flood down my cheeks. Zachary Goode crying. Cam would have laughed. Cam will never laugh again. I hear wood splintering and roll over to see that Bex has kicked the door in and that Liz and Macey are standing behind her. All three are glaring but their expressions soften when they see my face.

Liz walks towards me. "Zach, it isn't your fault. It is the Circle's."

"Come on," says Macey gently, picking up my suit, "let's get you dressed and out to the cemetery."

Bex just stands there, her face sad, her eyes broken. I know how she feels and it is her so un-Bexish expression that makes me drag myself out of bed and let Macey and Liz help me get dressed in my suit. Five minutes later, Macey is tying my tie and Liz is bringing me my shoes. When they look away for a moment, I slide a small handgun into my pocket. I haven't decided whether or not to use it, all I know is that life without Cammie isn't a life at all. I think of all of the things I should have said to her, the things I should have done, while I follow the girls to a waiting car that will take us to the cemetery for the graveside service that the CIA organized. The world is grey.

The cemetery is full of CIA agents, MI6 operatives and Gallagher students and staff. Ms. Morgan is dressed in a black dress and is leaning against Joe who is clutching Abby's hand in his like if he let's go, the world will end. My mother and her people are dead. Abby had been leading the rescue mission to get Cam and when she'd found her dead, she had given orders to leave nobody alive. Her decision was the subject of careful investigation and scrutiny for days before some hotshot at the top of the CIA said that it was made in a moment when her head was so clouded with grief that you really couldn't hold her accountable for what she had done. If it had been me I'd have done the same.

ignore the sermon. The preacher obviously never met Cammie. He talks about her unbelievable bravery in the face of death. How she sacrificed her life for her country. How she was well liked. Nobody is really talking about Cammie though. Cammie who would only eat waffles, no pancakes, because she claimed the texture was different, Cammie who could disappear in any crowd, Cammie who knew every passageway in Gallagher, Cammie who once found an entire room full of gold coins within the walls of Gallagher. Cammie who could make me feel loved, feel real and feel special, just by smiling at me. Cammie who's kisses were tender and gentle. Who I loved but never told. Nobody talks about that girl. Nobody says a word about her. When this man finally stops talking, they lower her into the ground and hand Ms. Morgan a folded American flag, just like they do for fallen soldiers. I am done. I have seen enough. I turn and walk into the forest surrounding the cemetery.

The trees are green. They should be black. Why does everything else in the world have the right to keep on living when it should all die? Why do people move on with their lives when Cammie will never be able to move on with hers? Why did she have to leave me here alone? I take the gun out of my pocket and sit down on the muddy earth, leaning against a tree. Oh my God. Cammie is gone. My Cammie will never be alive again. She will never hug me; I will never again know the feel of her lips on mine. Never again will I see her smile. Never again will she say my name. We will never get married or go on a date. There will never be children running around a house we bought together. There will never be missions we can go on together. I turn the gun over in my hands, feeling the cool metal against my fingertips. I am done. I can't do this without her. I don't want to do this without her. I bring the gun to my head, my finger resting on the trigger. I choke on my tears. Cammie. Cammie. I pull the trigger.