Hello, lovelies! I've gotten so many reviews to start updating again (which I insanely appreciate) So because you asked, you shall receive (hey "guest" I hope your ankle feels better!). I'm trying to revive this once and for all, but I love the support!

Chapter 17

Zach POV

I awoke to the sound of electronic beeping—a somewhat familiar noise given my past record. When the fuzziness from my sight faded I looked around.

Yup, I was in a hospital bed.

My pride in my perceptiveness was short-lived however because I remembered why exactly I was in this location.

"Oh my god. Cammie," I mumbled, throwing back the bed sheets and trying to detangle myself from the IV tubes going in me.

"Whoa there," a nurse said, rushing into my room. He came over to stop me from pulling out the needles. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

"I have to... Cam..." I tried to say, slurring. My head was suddenly a merry-go-round. I felt the gentle guidance of the nurse.

"There you go. Easy does it." He laid me back in bed, and the spinning stopped. When I regained focus, I tried to remember what made me get up so fast in the first place. The nurse must've noticed my confusion because he started filling me in. "You have a concussion, my friend. So you want to take it easy." The nurse started checking vitals.

There was something important, I was on the verge of remembering. The nurse whistled cheerfully as I frustratingly tried to remember what made me get out of bed just moments ago.

"There's something important I have to do," I said aggravated. The whistling grated against my ears. "But I can't remember. I just did..."

"That's the concussion for you," the nurse replied. He changed the bag of liquid to my IV. "Short term memory loss. You're lucky that's all you suffered from. Most people don't escape from explosions unscathed. Like your friend for instance. Why she—"

"Cammie!" I said, the memories slamming into me once again. I tried to get out of bed while the nurse pushed me back down.

"Now, I really recommend staying put—"

"Where is she?" I growled. I tried to shove past the nurse again, but he was surprisingly strong. That's when I realized we weren't in any regular hospital—we were in a covert hospital for spies. When it's your business getting shot, poisoned, and derailed by explosives, you needed specially trained doctors and nurses who knew how to handle these kinds of causalities. And ones who could be clandestine about it.

"Just relax, Mr. Goode. Your concussion is mild, but we can't have you thrashing all over the place just in case."

"Where is she?" I asked again. I stilled, figuring I'd get my questions answered if the nurse didn't think I was ready to tackle him to the ground.

"Your friend? She hasn't left your side for the last five hours. We've been waking you up periodically to make sure you didn't fall into a coma. You don't remember seeing her?"

Visions of Cammie's soft hazel eyes and brown hair flittered across my mind. They seemed more like distant dreams rather than memories.

"That's normal. You were pretty out of it, especially after the painkillers. She mentioned you don't react well to them, but she insisted we keep you out of pain."

I almost smiled at that. She knew that painkillers made me drowsy and that I preferred consciousness to being pain free. She was horrified when she learned I wasn't taking anything after getting stabbed in Boca a few missions back. She tried to sneak me my meds any chance she got. That's why I don't trust her smoothies anymore.

"But yeah she's been here watching over you. She refused to let anyone even look at her own injuries. Didn't want to leave your side," he said, taking my blood pressure.

A warmth spread through me at the thought of my Gallagher Girl sitting by my side. I was both pleased at her insistence and annoyed she wouldn't get herself checked. But I sobered up when I remembered she wasn't my Gallagher Girl anymore. And on top of that, why would she stay by my side if she ultimately didn't care about me anymore?

The rational part of me tried to see reason: she needed to make sure I was okay. I wasn't her fiancé anymore, but I was still a member of her team. The part of me that desperately wished she still wanted me as much as I wanted her whispered that she stayed because she loved me.

I quickly shut that part down. If she really loved me, she would be honest with me. I had to stop debating in my heart whether Cammie and I could still be together. I couldn't be with someone who wasn't honest with me. I spent my whole life lied to. My mother, my professors, everyone always lied to me. Hell, I get lied to and lie for living! But I would not, could not have a relationship filled with lies. That was the one part of my life I wanted to be open and true.

And as much as it pained me, Cammie couldn't give me that.

That didn't mean I wasn't still worried about her.

"Okay she was here, but where is she now?" I asked, peeved that I hadn't gotten an actual answer to my question.

The nurse looked around the room confused as if he expected to see her curled up in the chair next to my bed.

"Not sure, my man. She's been here the whole time."

"Yeah I got that part," I said. The whole remainder of how much she cared was just painful. You always expected breakups to occur when two people didn't love each other anymore or one person cheated so clearly there wasn't love. But breakups that occurred despite the unmitigated love? Well those just sucked.

"Anyway, your vitals are good. The doctor should be along shortly. I'll keep an eye out for your friend."

"Thanks," I mumbled. I turned to my side away from the door and tried to get comfortable. My legs were starting to feel stiff. As soon as the doctor cleared me, I was out of here. I needed to discuss with Cammie what went wrong with our mission. How did I end up finding a copy of the USB that was actually an explosive? Our intel suggested Ridgewell would go for Proteus. Not the actual server.

I heard the door open. I glanced over at my shoulder. A man dressed in with a white coat came in.

A man that was trying to pass off as a doctor.

But I knew who he really was.

I immediately tried to lunge for him, only to realize I was completely paralyzed from the neck down. I glanced at the bag the nurse had hung up early. It had SUX printed on it: Succinylcholine.

"Don't worry. The paralysis is only temporary. I just needed a few moments with you unperturbed," the "doctor" said.

I glared at him. It was the silver man from the restaurant. The friend of Mother, who last spoken to, threatened the life of Cammie if I didn't stop her from working with Father. Because of the whole Comoros incident and tracking down the chip, I had put my tiff with him on the back burner. I now sensed the pot was boiling over, and I didn't stop it in time.

"What? First the restaurant full of trained assassins and now the paralytics? Damn I must be more of a threat than I realized," I said with a smirk. I took a little pleasure in the fact I could still move my facial muscles into my trademarked smirk.

"I assume you've estimated yourself correctly," he responded. He shut the curtains of my room, so no unsuspecting passerbys would see in.

"You didn't paralyze my mouth, which means you want to have a chat?" I guessed. I didn't know how long these paralytics were supposed to last. But if I could keep him talking long enough, there was a small chance I could recover and take him down once and for all.

"I wouldn't bother screaming, Mr. Goode. I think you'll be interested in this particular line of conversation," the silver man said. He crossed over to where I was laying, so I wouldn't have to stretch my neck. While I was curious as to why he was here, I didn't want to give him that impression. Plus I needed to stall.

"Did that nurse work for you?" I asked. I played it casual when really I was kicking myself for not paying attention to what the nurse was doing to me.

"Doesn't matter," he said dismissively.

"For other patients it does. You know most people want a nurse with actual credentials giving them their paralytics," I pointed out.

"You're not as witty as you think you are," the man responded.

"I think I've estimated my wit correctly," I responded.

"Unfortunately, I did not come to debate your comedic qualifications," he said. He took a seat in the chair Cammie sat in. For some reason it angered me. He was polluting her presence. Then something dawned on me.

Cammie was here the whole time. The nurse, who was not really a nurse, confirmed it. It was too much of a coincidence that she wasn't around precisely when silver man showed up.

Rage filled me. I couldn't tense my body, but I felt like I was vibrating with anger.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"Who?" the man responded.

"You know who," I spat.

"Don't worry, Mr. Goode. Cameron has proved to be useful now that she knows what Father wants. I need her alive to retrieve said item."

"I'm going to ask again, and if you don't actually answer my goddamn question, I will make you regret it: Where. Is. She?"

"Why, she's getting her wounds checked out," the man responded, seemingly unaffected by my threat.

"That doesn't make sense. The nurse said she wouldn't leave my side." I stopped myself. Why was I still believing what that son-of-a-bitch nurse said? Was she even here? Did she just drop me off, happy I was no longer trying to be involved in her plans? I felt doubt gnaw at my earlier happiness.

"To save you from internally debating the merits of her love for you, the nurse told the truth," he responded. I wished I didn't feel relief at knowing she waited for me. It was pretty pathetic of me to focus on the frivolities right now. "In fact, she was so insistent on not leaving, we had to help her along to get checked out."

"Meaning?" I said, through gritted teeth.

"A little bit of Rohypnol made her a lot more agreeable to the situation."

"So you knocked her out?" I don't know if it was the anger-fuelled adrenaline surging through me or if the paralytics were starting to wear off naturally, but I could start feeling my extremities.

"Just so we could get a doctor working on her. She did have some terrible scrapes along her back. I guess no backless wedding dress for her. If there is still a wedding, that is," he said with a smile.

I gritted my teeth. Ignoring the wedding jab (and how violated I felt that he knew that info), I needed to make sure Cammie was okay. I didn't know the extent of her injuries until now. It dawned on me then that she had saved me. In all the commotion of the explosion going off, I didn't notice her movements to shield the explosion from me.

God, she really did love me.

Couldn't that just be enough...

I couldn't think of that right now. I had to focus on the mofo in front of me who wanted something from Cammie.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"Ah finally. The stalling is over. Let me get right to it then: I need that chip."

"Obviously," I responded. "But why?"

"Do you think I plan to divulge my plans with you? Why, do you consider us pals?" he said mockingly.

"I do, so why don't you be a pal and stab yourself with that needle?" I said.

"Your smartass repertoire is tiring, Mr. Goode," he said with a sigh.

"So is this conversation. Get to the point," I snapped. Despite the little movement in my hands and feet, I figured this guy was smart enough to have dosed me with enough SUX to keep me occupied until he was finished. Him toying me with titbits about Cammie was just for my own personal suffering.

"Once Cameron is in possession of the chip—which I know she will because it's a part of her vigilante justice—you will bring it to me. No hard will come to either you or Cameron."

"And the threat?" I asked. All bad guy requests were concluded with a "or die" type of thing.

"Oh I hardly think that's necessary," he said getting up and heading for the door.

The unsaid threats were always the worst. If the bad guy didn't tell you straight up what he was going to do to you, it's because he wanted your imagination to come up with the worst. Fear is a powerful motivator.

"Wait, what did you mean by 'vigilante justice?'" I asked, craning my neck toward him.

For some reason, that part of the conversation bugged me. He was sure Cammie would get the chip. I mean she's an amazing spy, but why did he have no doubt she would go after it?

He stopped at the door and turned back to me.

"Cameron needs to right her past," he said in a maddeningly vague way. He opened the door.

"What does that mean?" I raised my voice—a subtle threat that I wasn't above screaming right now to get my way.

"Sometimes, Agent Goode, we don't always kill the bad guys."

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