Work Text:
Despite being a highly skilled operative, Cameron Morgan wasn’t keeping an eye on her perimeter, or even employing the Mazreku countersurveillance technique as she ran down P street.
All she could hear was the ringing in her ears as her feet pounded on the pavement, one repetitive motion after the other, left foot, then right. Although it wasn’t technically possible (even if Liz was working on the technology), she swore she could feel her blood rushing through her body, coursing through her arms and into her wildly beating heart.
She passed businesses closing down for the night, the cute little kitschy shops she rarely went into, other than to grab a snack before rushing off to class or Langley. She turned right onto 34th Street, remembering the overgrown tree that had broken through the pavement and easily hopping over it as she continued her quick pace.
All she had to do was make it to his place, pray that he was home (because he had been a little upset that she’d stripped the wood in his door after she broke in the last time he was out of town). She had a key, but it was redundant when they both changed their locks twice a week, and, well, she hadn’t been given a lockpicking kit for her 14th birthday for nothing.
Turning left, she finally looked up at the mirror that hung on the corner ice-cream shop, checking her reflection for a tail as she breezed through the tall townhomes that littered the block, skidding to a stop in front of one that had about a quarter of a million dollars of security measures that were invisible to the average eye.
Cammie bounded up the steps, popped the sensor she knew was under the ledge of the window to her left, then slid her sweaty palm over the scanner. She looked at the peephole (that was embedded with a retina scanner), allowing her eyes to be scanned before the door flew open and her boyfriend looked her up and down, clad in PJ pants and a loose gray t-shirt.
“Cam?” he asked. It was a testament to how well they worked together, and how much he trusted her that he chose not to hide the surprise on his face at seeing her at his door on a night they hadn’t planned on seeing each other.
Cammie was still stuck in the dorms (cover and all), but his father had scored him an apartment about two miles away, still on the edge of the neighborhood, but just far enough away she couldn’t justify sleeping over every single night. His cover didn’t involve him attending Georgetown, so he got to have his own bathroom and kitchen while she was stuck with the twin XL bed and the student meal plan.
“Hi,” she said simply through ragged breath. “Can I come in?”
He held the door open a little wider, gesturing for her to come inside. When she was in the small entryway, she kicked her shoes off and stripped her shirt, revealing the sports bra underneath that stuck to her sweaty skin.
“Gee, Gallagher Girl, not that I’m opposed to this, but is everything good?” His voice didn’t betray any of the concern she knew he was feeling in that moment.
“I needed to get out of there,” she blurted, finally turning to face him. His features morphed from puzzling to slightly panicked, reaching for her and running his hands up and down her arms, checking for any new bruises or injury.
“Get out of where? What’s wrong?” he asked, this time not making an effort to hide the panic in his voice. “Did something happen? Are you okay? Is someone—”
“Circus,” she spat, trying to calm her racing heart rate, even if logic was failing to prevail in this situation. The hair on her arms was still on end and the back of her neck was slick with sweat. All she could see in her mind was a woman dropping a piece of paper, circus music, and a haunting melody sung by a woman with dark red hair and the same eyes as the man in front of her.
Zach’s voice rose another octave. “Circus? Cammie, what’s wrong? Did you see someone? Is it the Circle? Is someone on your tail?”
She shook her head quickly, pushing him away from her and bounding towards his kitchen, desperate for a glass of water or anything that could help her get out of her own head.
His footsteps followed hers, matching her pace, and stopping her and turning her around just before she reached the entryway of his tiny kitchen.
“Cam,” he said, not unkindly, taking both of her hands in his and squeezing. “Talk to me, please. What’s wrong?”
She felt sheepish, embarrassed like she had those first few months after she’d returned from Austria. People had stared as she’d had panic attacks and nervous breakdowns and sleepwalking nights like something was wrong with her. He had seen her through all of it, the nights in the P&E barn when she’d cry herself to sleep or when she’d woken up to him chasing her as she sleepwalked in Italy.
Suffice to say, they were long, long past the embarrassment stage with each other, which is why she forced her breathing to slow down and said, “My roommates kept talking about going to see the circus that’s in town, and I don’t know why, but I…panicked. And ran here.”
His shoulders dropped, and he let out an exhale. He pulled her in, his arms going around her and holding her so tightly she almost couldn’t breathe again. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed into her hair, kissing the top of her head.
“I just had to…run. I couldn’t be there anymore, and I guess I ran here,” she said, averting his gaze and looking down at the floor. “I’m sorry if I crashed your evening plans. Can I stay here for the night?”
His eyes softened, and he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Cam, you can derail my nonexistent plans whenever you want. Do you need me to call them? Or tell your mom or anything?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be okay. It’s so stupid, Zach. It’s been years. I can’t…I can’t afford to freak out like this at every mention of a circus. What if that had been on an op? Or—or while in deep cover or in class or—”
“But it didn’t,” he said gently. “Cam, it’s not your fault that happened.”
“But I’m an operative! A spy! I need to be better.”
“You’re also still human,” he shot back. “And someone who went through an insane amount of trauma not even three years ago. Come on, Gallagher Girl, give yourself some grace. Highly trained operatives who have been in the field for three decades wouldn’t survive what you went through. Do you want to talk about it?”
How could it be that this boy was so emotionally intuitive, so understanding and sweet when he came from the woman who had done all this to her? He always, infuriatingly at times, knew the right thing to say, how to make her stop feeling like a stranger inside her own skin. It wasn’t fair sometimes.
Cammie shook her head. “No. I just want to move past it,” she said decidedly, sinking even further into his embrace, burying her face in his neck and breathing him in.
“Okay,” he said simply, pulling back to look at her. It used to unnerve her, how much he saw her, but now it was a comfort that brought her peace on the worst of days, knowing that someone she loved so fiercely could see through to every part of her.
Then a mischievous smile graced his lips. “So does that mean you’ll finally watch Big Brother with me? I’ll even cook dinner.”
That got an unexpected laugh out of her, and she laughed so long that he eventually joined in, the two of them settling into the domestic comfort of laughing with the person you loved the most in the world.
Cammie laced her fingers with his, leading them to his kitchen, where she’d inevitably sit on the counter (despite his protests) as he made them dinner. He was an excellent cook, and she had inherited her mother’s skills, so she often sat by while he made them food, distracting him with kisses as he sautéed meat or cut up vegetables.
Zach would never tell her, but he always kept a second set of plates and cutlery just in case she did decide to come over when he wasn’t expecting her. She’d never tell him, but she knew how he stacked his dishes and had figured that out long ago.
He’d make some variation of marry me chicken (and she’d joke that if he kept that up, she’d have to ask him to marry her) and they’d end up cuddling on his couch and watching a show the other pretended to hate but secretly loved watching.
And maybe, under the cover of darkness and curled up in a bed, she’d tell him how she was feeling after earlier, or maybe tell him another story of her childhood, one that she knew wouldn’t be used against her like so many others had been, because it was Zach and he loved her and she loved him, and things would be okay.