Slight AU: She stared at the letters printed in large clear font on plastic bracelet placed on her wrist. Mentally Disturbed. "Don't believe what they say. I'm not crazy" "I know" Rachel/ Matt

Disclaimer: I don't own the Gallagher Girls

Rachel was driving Cammie home from her ballet lesson. Cammie was sitting in the back in her adorable pink leotard with an even pinker fluffy tutu.

Rachel looked into the rear view mirror and was half paying attention to the thrilling story Cammie was telling about her new friend with the shiny hair barrette. Her name was Sara and she had a rhinestoned clip of ballet slippers. Cammie wanted one too.

Rachel made a note in her head as a possible present for Cammie's birthday in two months.

Her motherly driving got them home a little late for dinner and Rachel was worried dinner wouldn't be ready before Matt got home tonight. She was excited for his return tonight. They would have a little party to celebrate.

Parking in the garage, Cammie flew out the door and into her room to go watch the newest episode of Blue's Clues and Rachel brought in the groceries.

If it wasn't for the fact she was a spy, Rachel would have jumped when she saw someone standing in her kitchen door.

It was Joe Solomon.

"Hi Rachel." His voice showed no emotion and his face was a blank slate.

She knew something was up.

"What's wrong Joe? I need to get cooking. Matt's supposed to be home soon. I'm making grilled cheese tonight. He says it's the only thing I can't burn."

She was rambling and she knew it. It was her way to avoid the truth because there was that nagging voice inside of her that knew exactly what was wrong.

"He's not coming back Rachel."

She dropped all the groceries on the ground and didn't move to go pick them back up.

"You're lying."

Joe just looked at her sympathetically.

"You know I'm not."

Rachel dropped in a heap next to her groceries and cried.

The gooey yellow yolk of the eggs leaked all over the ground and onto her clothes, mixing with her tears.

Cracked eggs, split milk, cheese scattered, bread ruined, heart broken.

Fresh out of Gallagher, Rachel Cameron was an innocent little thing.

Well as innocent as someone who knew how to kill you 26 with her handbag could.

She still had that air of excitement around her that surrounded the glamour of being a spy. The dream that she could do good and help make the world a better place. Of course that's true, but getting there? It's messy.

Not even Gallagher could prepare her for this life completely. Some things it's best not to know.

Heart beating excitedly, Rachel Morgan entered the fitting room of the Pentagon City Mall and made her downward descent to the CIA Headquarters.

A rush of adrenaline hit her system as she saw her name flash up on the screen

Rachel Cameron, Department of Operations Clearance 6

Next to her a man let out a slow whistle as he read the screen as well.

"You must be a hell of a newcomer to be starting out at that level."

She put her hand on her hip and asked him "What makes you think I'm a newcomer?"

He leaned against the wall and raised his eyebrows.

"It's the CIA. Everyone knows everyone. We'd be in trouble if we couldn't remember who passes these halls everyday."

"Touché."

She studied him. Messy dirty blond hair, stunning blue eyes that match his shirt, slacks, and lopsided smile; he was definitely hot.

"Like what you see?" He interrupted her thoughts.

Damn. And she thought she was being sneaky about it.

He laughed as blushed and held out a hand to her.

"Matthew Morgan, you can call me Matt."

She tried to regain some of her pride and took his hand. "Rachel Cameron, but you knew that."

"Well Miss Cameron, do you want to get a coffee or something before I give you the grand tour?"

She giggled. "Yes to the coffee, but I don't need a tour. I already know this place like the back of my hand."

He looked at her with amusement. "And how is that?"

She leaned into his ear and whispered

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out."

Rachel Cameron joined in with the early morning rush on the busy streets of New York City.

In a spiffy suit, heels really too high to be walking in, and a briefcase to complete the set, she hoped to blend in with the businessmen and women that wandered the streets.

In her briefcase however, hidden under piles of meaningless papers, 3 lock systems, a retina scanner, fingerprint analysis and a secret compartment was information that could potentially destroy the whole East Coast if not handled with care.

Wandering the streets she remembered how Matt somehow slipped that Blackthorne Institute was not far from here and made her very curious.

Rachel Cameron and Matt Morgan had gotten very close, they were the best of friends. Matt had mentioned in the passing how he had guest spoke at Blackthorne Institute in New York and gotten her curious.

She, of course, pestered and hacked her way into figuring just what exactly the Institute was, and it horrified her.

Rachel had refused to speak to Matt for many days after that until he finally explained about their reform process.

Then she was brought out of her thoughts by the figure she had seen not once, not twice, but for the third time.

Her heart was pounding at a thousand miles per hour. Because peering through the reflective surface of her glasses, Rachel realized something.

She was being sloppy.

Something went horribly wrong.

Rachel silently cussed to herself. She had a tail. They were on to her. How did she manage to screw up her first Level 8 mission?

Suddenly there were two tails, then three, then twenty. She had been led into a trap.

Rachel got into a tense fighting stance and prepared herself mentally for this attack about to ensue.

Because she wasn't going to go down without a fight.

One man approached her first, gun casually hanging at his side.

"Agent Cameron, how nice of you to join us. You're going to have to open that briefcase you have right there for us, or else I'm afraid you'll be in so much pain you'll be asking for death."

She openly laughed in his face.

"You think I'm just going to hand over this information? Do your worst."

And she meant everything she said.

She fought off the first twelve without much problem , but they were just as skilled as she was and had the upper hand. She felt herself tiring.

She didn't see the man coming behind her. And she didn't see the rag until it covered her face and forced her to black out.

She was trapped in the hell hole she called her mind.

Almost a full year she had been staying in the infirmary, though it was better called an asylum.

Her room was devoid of everything she could possibly use to kill herself with, and that was saying a lot. The pure white room was less than 10 feet in length or width. The 10 inch square, 5 inch thick window of missile-proof glass let in copious amounts of light and made the pure white room even more unbearable.

At first she spent her days screaming, and screaming. Her nightmares became hallucinations in the room so devoid of life. Constantly being sedated because her screams disturbed the other patients and they couldn't sound proof her room in case of an emergency.

A nurse brought in food and medication for her daily and stared at her until she ate every last piece. Under watch 24/7, even when relieving herself turned out to be agonizing.

She turned to pain relievers. Everyday she would moan and yell until they gave her some and relished in the way her worries disappeared in an instant.

Sometime they must have caught on because they started giving her less and less and Rachel resorted to curling up in a ball in the corner of her room.

She desperately tried to keep her memories at bay. The memories of torture, of seeing everything that meant anything to her disappear right before her eyes.

Until she gave up, and just sat there painfully reliving everything she was trying to forget.

They had torn her apart bit by bit. She had made a friend there. They leaned on each other to survive there.

And then she watched them kill him.

She watched the blood seep out of his body and his tortured screams that would never leave her ears. There evil laughing and perverse pleasure in killing him.

The feelings of being on the edge of death, but not being able to succumb to its peaceful slumber.

Today was the today she would triumph.

Because today she had obtained a pen. The nurse who brought her food had foolishly dropped it before leaving, and by the time she noticed, Rachel had already blocked the door.

It was chaotic. There were people shouting outside, quite hysterically actually. They begged her to open the door, to give the pen back.

Rachel was still staring at the pen in wonder. With this one measly household object, she could relieve herself from all this pain. She could finally be free.

She clicked the pen slowly so the pen revealed it's point and held it up to her neck. Fully prepared to end it all, only one voice made her stop.

"Drop it now Rachel."

She dropped it.

"Good. Now sweetheart, open the door."

How he had heard the pen drop was a mystery. She slowly got up and turned the knob to face her savior.

Matthew Morgan had a stern expression on his face that relaxed when he saw her disheveled state.

Rachel's eyes still held a wild look, her hair frizzed and standing up on all ends, her eyes drooped and her lips were cracked.

She jumped into his arms and squeezed him so tightly all the nurses were afraid she would strangle him.

His frown was evident when peering inside the place Rachel had been staying in and he addressed the nurses.

"I'm taking her home to live with me. Can you give me the patient release form and a copy of her prescription?"

The nurses looked around hesitantly. Some gave him are-you-crazy looks.

"But sir," one whispered not so quietly as she thought, "Ms. Cameron here is quite disturbed, it wouldn't be very wise."

Matt was angry.

"That wasn't a request. It's a demand. Fetch them for me now."

Rachel sat in Matt's arms in the waiting room to be discharged.

She stared at the letters printed in large clear font on plastic bracelet placed on her wrist. Mentally Disturbed.

"Don't believe what they say. I'm not crazy" she whispered to him.

"I know"

Rachel snuck downstairs and into the kitchen.

Matt was still asleep upstairs after staying up all night doing paper work and she wanted to surprise him.

She was going to make him breakfast.

She took some instant pancake mix, added water ,and mixed it all together in a bowl.

Honestly, starting the stove would be a risky endeavor, but Rachel thought she might be able to handle it.

She poured the mixture onto a pan and watched it cook with a very careful eye.

But flipping the pan over to take the pancake out, she realized it was stuck.

She had to scrape it out and got a resemblance to a very burnt scribble thing. She shrugged and placed it very carefully on a plate and added M&M's on top in a smiley face.

Only green M&M's of course, because that's his favorite color.

She clapped happily at her success, poured a glass of milk, and slowly carried the plate and cup upstairs to his room.

Rachel entered the door just as he was getting up.

"MATT!" she shrieks and jumps on the bed. She holds the badly burnt breakfast in front of his face and smiles proudly.

"I made you breakfast! Eat up!"

He looks at it wearily but eats up every last bite while she watches with delight. She chatters incessantly during the whole time.

"You know why I love M&M's so much? Because they remind me of you Matt! M and M. Stands for Matthew Morgan!" she gave an adorable little giggle.

Matt stared at the woman who was in her mid-twenties, yet she acted so much like a child.

He had held her for never-ending nights where she just screamed and screamed till she cried herself into oblivion. He coaxed food slowly down her throat and carefully monitored her medicine intake.

Slowly, day by day, she started to get better.

She would point out the constellations when they laid down under the stars. She looked at the ripples in the lake with child-like wonder. She dragged him along in the pet store to look at the puppies for sale.

And she slowly got better.

BOOM! Matt was shook out of his thoughts. The fire alarm started blaring and the sprinklers soaked them both.

"Oops" Rachel giggled, "Must have left the stove on."

And that's what he loved about her.

Rachel took deep breaths on her way down the elevator.

It's okay. You'll be fine.

Who was she kidding? Rachel Cameron was extremely nervous.

Walking down the hallways of the CIA, she couldn't help look behind in a very unprofessional way every time she thought someone was following her.

She entered the office that they had very kindly left open for her and sighed. Everything would be okay.

She immediately started her paperwork that she had been neglecting for the past couple of months and immersed herself in her work.

But in the back of her mind she couldn't help but worry about Matt.

He might not come back from his mission today.

Sure they said he should be back today, but it didn't mean that he would. Something could go wrong. He could get hurt.

She kept herself busy doing random errands for everyone else. Wandering from corridor to corridor, memorizing long messages in her head so she couldn't think of anything else.

All day no one had news about Matt.

She just kept convincing herself that he was just running a bit late. She stayed in her office until she knew she could stay no longer and slowly packed up to go home.

Walking down the hallway she noticed how odd that the lobby was completely dark. Getting closer she realized only one spot was illuminated.

There was a rose.

Then all the lights came up and she realized the whole lobby was covered in roses.

And in the middle of it all, stood none other than Matthew Morgan himself.

She ran through the field of roses and tackled him in a great big hug. She laid there frozen as he whispered in her ear.

"I love you Rachel Cameron. Marry me?"

Rachel smiled and screamed "YES!" at the top of her lungs.

All around them people appeared out of thin air and cheered for the new couple.

"What should we name her?" Rachel asked him.

Matt was still in shock.

"Helloo?" she stared at him, "You want this right? Oh my gosh! You don't want this? WhatamIgoingtodo?"

She was hyperventilating. Well that snapped him out of his trance.

"No! No! I want this. I promise. I want our child."

He calmed her fears, and she was smiling again.

He held her close in him arms and tentatively put his hand on her abdomen.

"Her name will be Cameron Ann Morgan, after you and after my mother." he whispered delicately in her ear.

"I like it. Cameron Ann Morgan. She'll be my little angel."

Matt smiled, "You're my angel."

"You can't leave me." Rachel whimpered.

"I have to go, Rachel. I need to do this, for Cammie." Matt tried to explain to her gently.

"Can't you do whatever you need to here? Cammie needs you with her." Rachel pleaded.

"You know I can't."

"I wish I didn't."

He wiped the tears forming in her eyes and held her close to him. "I'll be back I promise."

"Promises are meant to be broken."

Matt attempted at a smile. "I think you've got that confused. Rules are meant to be broken. Promises are forever."

Matthew Morgan didn't come home

Wow... the sections get smaller and smaller as you go down the page. Failure on my part, I'm sorry. Another bittersweet story. (Sorry, not a fan of happy endings, and Cammie's dad really hasn't come back yet). I'm also sorry I haven't updated in a really long time. Homework's a bitch, no doubt about that.

This story came to me about three weeks ago and I've been writing in all my spare time.

I'll update my other stories when I get around to it (which is like never). I also currently have writer's block for Gifts so don't expect an update any time soon. Yeah, sorry about that.

I'm doing Nanowrimo this year (look it up if you don't know what it is)! That's bad news for all of you because it means I won't be updating any of my stories this month. I'll be busy working on my own novel. I did try to get this out before it started though (it starts tomorrow).

Please review! Constructive criticism is always well, and it's actually encouraged. I can take it, I promise. I also won't freak out on you and threaten to stop writing if you flame me. (*cough* unlike some other authors who don't understand proper grammar, spelling, the English language, or any resemblance of a plot do. *cough*)

Love you all! :)