Hi, guys.

Sorry for such an unexpected hiatus- things have been crazy stressful as of late. If it shows you any representation of how crazy things have been, I started this chapter in early July and finished it today, October twelfth. That's a ridiculously long time to work on a chapter, and I've keep you guys waiting for too long, jfc. Sorry.

So, here's chapter two! I don't know if I can give you guys a specific upload date for chapter three, but.. nope. I'm not going to say a word.

Alrighty.. so here it is.

dulles international airport, washington, district of columbia, the united states of america

"Yeah. Yeah. Mmhm. Right. Alright. We're on the—yes! God damn, Bex, we're on the—calm the fuck down!"

Zach snorted as he tugged Cammie along, weaving in and out between aloof businessmen and bustling families destined for Florida or California or some overflowing tourist destination bound to leave them with empty pockets and overstuffed stomachs, topped off only by equally overstuffed suitcases. They were in Dulles International Airport, which was a blessing and a curse at this time of year, and planned on visiting Cam's old roommate, Rebecca (for the hundredth time. They must've racked up thousands of Southwest Airlines mile rewards.) at her flat in London. She wasn't prepared to work an op given that near-everything was at a standstill (at least in underground intelligence agencies) and figured that it would be a simply marvelous time to visit.

"She's being that clingy, hm?" He mused, walking away from the baggage check-in counter. They normally wouldn't need to check two bags—Rebecca had a good majority of clothes that fit the other girl. This time, though, was different. Zach was coming, which meant a bag for him, and the increased tension between countries and governments led them to bring another bag of… reinforced clothing. Dresses with Kevlar sewn in. Graphic tees with bulletproof logos or designs screened over vital organs. Jeans with groin cups already in place. Shoes with certain soles being a half inch higher than the other. Handbags and backpacks with hidden compartments in the seams.

They were prepared.

"You know Bex," Cammie muttered back, hanging up the phone and slipping it in her hoodie pocket. "She can be worse than Macey at times, to be perfectly, one hundred percent honest." The couple headed toward security, flashing their passports (the legal ones) and trudging through to the TSA PreScreen line. Being with a government agency they were allotted some privileges. They tossed their backpacks onto the belt, walked through the metal detector, and carefully stepped around an elderly woman in a wheelchair. Zach plucked their bags off of the x-ray belt, slipping his on and handing Cam hers.

He laughed softly, bumping her. "I thought no one could be worse than Macey."

Cam glared back at him. "A lot of people can be worse than Macey. Macey's the tip of the metaphorical iceberg."

"And Bex is…?"

"Titanic."

Zach laughed again as they walked to their gate. They had about twenty minutes before they boarded and planned on spending it on their computers. "That doesn't even make sense, Cam."

"Well," the girl said, finding a seat near the customer service desk and plopping her bag down. "She's great and powerful and shit, but as soon as she hits trouble or a tricky situation she takes everyone down with her." Cameron carefully worded it while Zach shot her a pointed glance.

"I don't get it. Still. And, historical accuracy—the women and children got off the boat."

Cam knew it didn't make much sense; she barely got her point across and Zach thought it was about as clear as mud. "Doesn't matter. Bex is a beautifully-built doomsday machine."

Zachary slipped his laptop out of his bag, booting it up and logging in to meet a homescreen with a graduation photo as the wallpaper. He winced, as though the thought of it hurt him, and cast a sideways look at his girlfriend. She had aged significantly since graduation two years ago, her high cheekbones more prominent and more lean muscle added onto her arms and thighs. Cameron had gained a few inches in height but still was shorter than him, and what weight she lost by getting taller she gained back in muscle. She was no longer the girl that could blend in with everyone else, or the girl that could assimilate with a crowd with no problem. This girl was stunning.

Cammie mimicked him, sliding her own out of her backpack. Her homescreen, though, was a picture of her father. She kept it there to remind herself to stay grounded. To stay sane. To survive, but do so in the most rational way. To escape, but—

"BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 953 TO LONDON IS BOARDING. BOARDING GROUP A PLEASE COME TO THE GATE TO BOARD. I REPEAT, BOARDING GROUP A ON BRITISH AIRWAYS FLIGHT 953 TO LONDON PLEASE COME TO BOARD."

Both of them lifted their heads and packed up their things. She caught a quick glimpse at her ticket, inwardly grinning at Zach's genius. He paid an extra twenty dollars or so to bump them up to group A so they wouldn't have to wait as long (she didn't really see the point, though: it wasn't open seating). Cam scooped up her bag with one hand and grabbed his with her other, keeping up the completely-true cover of a boyfriend and girlfriend on vacation. Was it really vacation? She wasn't really relaxed; she wasn't allowed to be.

The tension between CIA and MI6 was stiflingly confining. They tried to limit as much interaction between each other as possible, MI6 getting upset over the United States' National Security Agency. Granted, it was a very flawed system and with rogues leaking info it became less flawed and more dangerous. Dangerous not only for the people involved, but also the general public.

There are things they shouldn't know about, Cam thought to herself, watching a family of four pack up their things. A happy father, a stressed out mother, a disinterested teenager and a barely-controllable child. She smiled sadly, remembering her father.

Sure, it wasn't too bad now. It could be worse. She could have a life like Zach, with Townsend creeping over her shoulder without disclosing any information about why he was doing it. Where his mother was dead, and the ex-leader of a now-in-ruins secret society. Where he was trained to be an assassin from the age of twelve.

Cameron was lucky. Although her father had died, she had a loving mother who supported and understood her and a stepfather who would take a bullet for her. She had an aunt who had taken a bullet for people and would most definitely do it for her before you could hear the firing of the gun. She had a community of sisters who had her back, and would continue to as she carried on through life. She had Bex, Macey, and Liz, Jonas, Preston, Grant, and most importantly, Zach.

As though he could hear what she was thinking, Zach squeezed her hand. "You ready to go to London?" He asked softly, in a light tone.

She smiled, nodding and looking up at him. "Definitely. It's been too long, Zach."

"I agree." They were nearing the gate desk, and both grabbed their respective tickets, not wanting to be the people that held the line up. "I can't wait to s—I can't wait to see Bex."

Cammie's eyebrows shot up and she let out a small laugh. "You were going to say Townsend. Dad. Father."

He fake-grimaced, nodding. "Fuck. You caught me."

The girl held out her ticket as the gate attendant scanned her ticket and passport, and she smiled to the uniform-clad attendant. "Thanks." She lingered toward the entrance, waiting for her boyfriend.

When he rejoined her she punched him playfully on the arm. "I know I did. Townsend is a dick, but you shouldn't try and hide that you want to see him. He is your dad, after all. You can't change that."

"I know, I know." Zach sighed. "I guess he'll have to meet you, huh?"

"Don't even. He's met me already. In fact, I think I know more than you do about him."

"How so?"

"I may or may not have drugged him with a specialized formula that Liz made especially for the purpose to learn more about him."

He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. They were almost to the end of the bridge to the plane. "And what year was this?"

"Junior year," Cam said casually, boarding the plane. She smiled at the flight attendants and at the pilot, and found their seats. "Studying for the ACTs was boring. Your father was shady. We decided to investigate."

Zach continued to laugh, stowing their carryons above their seats, and gesturing for Cam to sit by the window. He slid in after her, leaving one empty seat for someone else to fill. "Alright. I suppose that's just a good reason to drug my dad, then."

Twenty minutes passed, the plane filled up, and the seatbelt sign flashed above them. A nice, elderly lady sat next to Zach, in the aisle seat. She talked to them about her son who moved to London a few years ago and how she was going to visit him to attend his marriage. The plane began to taxi and eventually, they were in the air. Another twenty minutes later and Cam busted out her laptop, expertly placing it on the tray tables between her and Zach. Movie? She mouthed to him, and he shrugged, indifferent. Cameron turned on Mission Impossible, gauging his reaction.

Very funny, he mouthed back. Zach leaned closer to her, his lips ghosting over her ear. "Maybe we can learn something from it."

This made her snort and she plugged in the headphones splitter, handing a pair to the dark haired boy. "Maybe we can."

Yet another twenty minutes into the movie and Cammie could feel herself become more bored than she thought. This is going to be a looooong flight.

After what seemed like forever, they finally touched down. Despite herself and her frequent travel, jet lag got the better of her, and Cam was exhausted. So was Zach, as it seemed to be, and they vowed to make their first stop a Starbucks run.

london heathrow airport, london, england, the united kingdom

Baggage claim was hell, and they picked out their two bags from a conveyor belt carrying hundreds. One phone call later and they had a cab; ten minutes later and they were in the Starbucks closest to London Heathrow. In all honesty they didn't look too out of sorts—the amount of other travelers lugging suitcases and setting them precariously in the middle of aisles or under tables was more than the amount of commuters and businessmen.

Zach paid—of course he would, thought Cammie – and grabbed their drinks. Despite keeping their cover, the couple went by different names: Andrew and Melissa. So when Cam snatched her chai from her boyfriend she didn't stop for even a moment to see if it was the correct drink, knowing that Melissa would be scrawled in Sharpie on the side of the clear, plastic cup.

"Where to, Andrew?" She said nonchalantly, half-dragging, half-rolling a suitcase (unfortunately with a stuck wheel) behind her. "You have the address to the flat, right?"

Zachary rolled his eyes. "You underestimate me. I've got everything set up there already—our extra bags, burn phones, Oyster cards, everything." He tilted his head slightly so he could look at her. "Even chai tea bags. And I've got the address.. it's on my phone. We'll catch a cab and I can give it to him, no problem, Melissa."

"Fantastic. So. Are you excited to see Sarah?" Bex had a civilian cover name as well, and all of them knew that if someone was onto them and they mentioned an agent's name it would be an instant red flag. "I really hope that we go to the Eye again. That was so much fun." Cam feigned a laugh, forcing a perfectly-executed smile onto her face.

Faking it even when off duty was easier than risking capture. Both knew that MI6 wouldn't hesitate to snatch them up when they got the chance, and vice versa. They just had to hope that it held. Bex was in a safehouse, using a new covername. Her parents didn't even know that they were in. Townsend did, but he knew better than to turn them in. Call him a mole, but he was the one that really let them know about the tension. About the lengths that MI6 would go to get information about the other side.

Although she was a trained spy, although she had been tortured, taught and brought millimeters to death this still struck a chord in her and she tensed at the thought.

Her mom would kill her.

"This sure beats an airplane seat," Zach said, sighing contentedly. The jet lag had affected him as well, causing every muscle to ache and a throbbing sensation to nestle itself between his temples. "I mean, it wasn't uncomfortable, but this couch is just great."

Cameron rolled her eyes and swept a stray lock of brown hair behind her ear, bent over her suitcase. The flat was an open-floor plan, so the bedroom was separated by an optional curtain if the renter so desired. Kitchen, living room, dining room and bedroom all in one even larger space. Despite this it was very well organized and everything seemed in its place.

She was unpacking, and noted that there was only one, king sized bed. Not two queens. Not two twins, not two fulls. One bed. Not that this necessarily bothered her, as she was nearly twenty and an adult, but she knew that Joe would have a fit if he found out about this. Then again, Joe could only have a fit if he knew about it, right?

It being the trip in its entirety.

Her mother and stepfather had no idea that they were currently in London. Townsend knew, Bex knew, Macey and Liz knew. Aunt Abby found out and begrudgingly allowed it. She wouldn't have had any other option, really. The two probably would've gone even if she didn't.

"Hey, babe?" Cameron called from the bedside, almost done unpacking.

"Yeah?"

"There's one bed."

Zach raised an eyebrow, not turning to face her. "Is that a problem? I can sleep on the couch, if y—"

"No, no, it's fine, I was just bringing it up." The girl hurriedly said, shutting the suitcase and propping it up in the corner. "I'm fine with it. It's fine."

The corner of his mouth tugged into a small smile. "You sure? You seem pretty unsure."

Cam exhaled, stood, and padded over to him. She slid onto the couch beside Zach. "It's fine. I'm just worried about if my Mom will find out. She might not come over here but I know Joe will, and you meeting up with Townsend and Joe finding us.. he'd freak out. He would most definitely freak out."

Zach slung his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer, planting a small kiss on her forehead. "It'll be fine. Even if they do find out, it'll be fine. Edwa—Dad has a.." He swore, laughing softly. "It's weird calling him Dad. He wasn't here for the majority of my life. I don't think he's earned that right.

"Anyway, We'll be fine. Edward has a safehouse in the French countryside, off the grid. I have connections that even have small apartments in Paris and Blâmont. We have plans B, C, and D. We're good."

A quick knock at the door made both of them tense and flinch slightly. Zach had a gun out before Cam even realized he had one on his person, and Cameron followed suit by snatching one out of the other suitcase. He motioned with his head to get to the other side of the small foyer that the door opened into, so that they could attack from both sides if needed. Another knock echoed throughout the flat, and Zachary silently stepped forward to look through the peephole. His whole body visibly relaxed and he waved Cam off, unlocking and opening the door. "It's great to see you again," A smooth, familiar voice said, tinged with excitement. "It's been way too long."

Zach closed the door behind Rebecca Baxter—Sarah Brinton—with a clenched jaw. "Great to see you too, Sarah. Way to scare the shit out of us, but great to see you."

Cameron skipped chastising her friend and opted to embrace her, tightly hugging the other girl. Bex smelled like cinnamon and sandalwood, a comforting scent that lingered for a bit after she would exit a place. The MI6 agent dressed casually, wearing a loose-fitting grey top and dark-washed jeans. Around her wrist was a silver bracelet, one embedded with gems that were the hue of the Gallagher Academy school colors. It was a parting gift from Cammie's mother, who gave one to each of the four girls.

Cam's was at home, tucked safely in a small box in the corner of her dresser.

Rebecca pulled away, smiling. She knew the risks as well as Zach and Cammie did, and they were very dangerous ones. Deadly ones. They could be killed, captured, or worse. But they knew this and took the plunge anyway.

Twenty minutes later the trio was grouped around the small kitchen table, eating instant macaroni and cheese bowls and sharing stories about their adventures (omitting overly-confidential details, of course) in their respective agencies.

Bex recently came back from a visit from Syria, describing war-ridden towns and makeshift militias. Zach told about his mission in France, to deal with and get intel on sporadic museum heists. Cammie, feeling a bit underwhelmed, talked about her job with training the new ops. One, she discovered, was a Gallagher alumna, and she retold a lengthy conversation about Professor Smith's newest and apparently more attractive, features. Bex and Cammie then went through a list of just how sexy Mr. Smith (although "sexy" and "Mr. Smith" in the same sentence was a bit...jarring) was without any plastic surgery whatsoever. Zach was fairly amused.

The operatives continued like this for a while, laughing and relaxing more than they had in years. The atmosphere was light and only the slightest tinge of tension hung in the air.

Cameron hadn't felt this free in ages; Zach had never laughed so much; Bex didn't think she would tell anyone about anything ever again.

Of course, a knock at the door changed everything.

you're welcome for the cliffhanger, darlings