Honor 02 - Honor Bound

by Radclyffe

  "You're safe for the moment," Blair said gently, staring at the gauze bandage wrapped around Cam's hand and arm. She hadn't seen that before. She swallowed around the lump in her throat and stroked Cam's cheek lightly. "I don't think you're in any condition to break any rules tonight."

  "This is definitely against regulations," Cam remarked drowsily, reaching for Blair's hand but only managing to brush her fingers over Blair's palm.

  "Yes," Blair whispered, leaning down to kiss her very softly on the mouth. "I know that, Commander."

  Then Blair pulled the covers over the sleeping woman, and quietly left the room.

  Chapter twenty-one

  Blair pulled the bedroom door closed behind her and came face-to-face with John Fielding, who was standing in the hallway three feet from the room. She looked at him questioningly, and he said quietly, "Mac would like to speak to the Commander."

  "She's asleep. Not now."

  If he was surprised by her response, he gave no sign of it. He merely nodded and walked to the far end of the hall, taking a position where he could see out the window as well as back along the hallway, past the closed door of Blair's room, and into the rest of the house.

  In the living room Blair immediately noted an unfamiliar man standing next to the front door in the place generally occupied by Stark. Savard was on the couch, leaning back with her eyes closed. As Blair approached, Savard opened her eyes. She looked worn but her smile was still electric.

  "Couldn't sleep?" Savard asked, surprised to see her. It hadn't escaped her notice that when Cameron Roberts walked through the door the first person she asked for was Blair Powell. After issuing a few curt orders, Roberts had disappeared down the hallway to Blair's room. Savard didn't know exactly what she thought might happen next, but she hadn't expected to see Blair again so soon. "Anything I can get you?"

  Ignoring the question, Blair said quietly, "You should go to bed, Agent Savard. Even the FBI can't require that you work twenty-four hour shifts."

  "I was just thinking about that," Savard admitted with a faint smile. "I thought I'd wait until Grant came back from the hospital. She took Stark to be checked out about half an hour ago. I just wanted to -- hear how she was."

  "How did she seem?" Blair heard the edge of worry in Savard's voice.

  Renee laughed. "Cranky. Fussing about leaving her post. She wouldn't have gone if the Commander hadn't ordered her to either be examined or be relieved." She smiled, a smile soft with feeling. "Stark's a regular Boy Scout."

  Blair recognized the undercurrent of affection in her voice. Interesting. "Where's Mac?"

  Savard indicated the room opposite them. "The dining room is apparently our new command center. I think he's waiting for the Commander in there."

  "Then he'll have to wait," Blair said flatly. "She's exhausted."

  Savard studied her, curious. There was a surprisingly proprietary tone in her voice. The two women's eyes met in a moment of silent understanding.

  "Right, then." Savard moved as if to get up. "I'll go tell him."

  Blair stopped her with a raised hand. "Never mind. I'll tell him myself."

  *

  Mac looked up from the notebook computer he was using as Blair Powell walked into the room. He was relieved to see that other than a weariness she couldn't quite disguise she looked thankfully uninjured. He couldn't even think about what might have happened if she had been fifteen feet closer to the vehicle when it exploded. He started to stand, and Blair said quickly, "For god's sake, Mac, sit down. "

  "How are you, Ms. Powell?" he asked politely.

  Blair laughed grimly. "I have no idea how to answer that question, Mac," she said with utter honesty. "Other than the fact that I feel like I've been dropped into the middle of some awful B-movie, I'm basically fine."

  He smiled sympathetically. "It's been a hell of a day. And tomorrow will be hectic, too." He moved some file folders off the chair next to him. "You're welcome to sit down. The Commander will want to fill you in herself, I'm sure."

  "In the morning, Mac," Blair said quietly.

  He stared, surprised and clearly confused. "I'm sorry?"

  "Have you looked at her, Mac?" Blair asked, unable to keep the irritation from her voice. What was wrong with these people? "She's falling down on her feet, and she's hurt. She's asleep right now and no one is going to wake her up."

  This time, Mac's incredulous expression was followed very quickly by an unmistakable look of respect. He nodded. "Of course. There's nothing that won't keep a few hours."

  "She couldn't tell me very much," Blair sighed, finally sitting down on the straight-backed dining room chair across from Mac. "Just how badly is she hurt?"

  Mac looked away, uncomfortable talking about something that he knew Cam wouldn't want discussed. Her. He'd rather Blair asked him to reveal top secrets.

  For a few seconds, Blair thought he wouldn't answer. "Mac?"

  Then he met her gaze and responded quietly, "As far as I can gather, she has some moderately severe burns on her right arm, shoulder, and neck. A State Trooper who was near the blast site grabbed her and dragged her away from the car before she could be more seriously injured."

  He wasn't about to tell her how damn scared he'd been watching helplessly from the van. First he had seen Jeremy's car burst into flames and people being thrown to the ground for fifty feet around. When he had looked to the spot where he had last seen Blair's group approaching, all he could see was a cloud of smoke. For a minute he had been paralyzed with the fear that they were all dead. Fortunately, Grant was cool in a crisis and she had already started the backup car and was racing toward Egret's last known location.

  Almost the instant the air had begun to clear, he had seen the Commander running straight into the raging inferno as if she didn't even notice the fire. Then Stark's voice had clamored in his ear that Egret was secure and while he was frantically trying to clear the lines of communication and direct the evacuation, he had seen a burly State Trooper dive into the flames and tackle Cameron Roberts. While Grant sped from the scene, the trooper had dragged the Commander away from the car. Mac had an eerie sensation that if that officer hadn't grabbed her, she might not have moved.

  He took a steadying breath, banishing that disquieting image, and said, "It took me the better part of two hours to get her to let the EMTs near her. But they checked her out and cleared her. They said she'll be okay."

  "Was anyone other than Agent Finch seriously injured?" Blair asked quietly. "I had a friend with me. Dr. Coleman?"

  "I don't have the figures yet," Mac said solemnly. "There were a number of bystanders with bumps and bruises and assorted fractures, but as far as I know, Jeremy was the only casualty."

  Blair heard the slight waver in his voice and realized that Mac had lost a friend as well as a colleague that day. "I'm so sorry."

  Mac nodded mutely. There really wasn't anything to say, especially to Blair Powell. He supposed he shouldn't even be briefing her, but over the six months that he had served as the head of her security team, he had gotten to know her better then he might have otherwise. He didn't presume to think that they were friends, but he understood her isolation a little bit better now. It wasn't right to keep her in the dark, especially when the events so clearly involved her.

  "You should get some rest, Ms. Powell," he said. "It's relatively quiet now, but I doubt that it will be tomorrow when the FBI shows up in force."

  Blair realized she was exhausted. She had been running on pure adrenaline for hours, and now that Cam had arrived and she had finally seen her, she could allow her fatigue to surface. What she really wanted to do was go back to her room and stretch out on the bed next to Cam. She supposed that wasn't a very good idea, considering that the house was filled with Secret Service agents, not to mention the FBI. If she returned to her bedroom, they were not likely to be able to ignore the fact that she was sleeping with Cameron Roberts. She almost smiled at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

  "I'd say tha
t's good advice, Mac, and you should probably take it as well."

  "I think I will," he said with a smile. As Blair rose, he added, "This is a very large house, and other than this room, the living room, and the kitchen, all the other rooms are bedrooms."

  She studied him thoughtfully, but she couldn't read anything in his clear blue eyes. "Thank you, Mac. I think I'll go find an empty one."

  He watched her leave the room, thinking once more how glad he was that he did not carry the ultimate responsibility for safeguarding her life.

  Chapter twenty-two

  At just past seven the next morning, Blair walked into the small galley-style kitchen. Cam was in the process of pouring a cup of coffee, juggling the pot somewhat awkwardly with her left hand. She was wearing blue jeans that were an inch too long, a loose fitting pale blue button-down collar shirt that looked suspiciously like police issue, and running shoes. The shoes, at least, were hers. Remarkably, when she glanced at Blair and smiled, her eyes looked clear and rested.

  "How in the hell do you do that," Blair grumbled, stumbling in the direction of the coffee cup Cam held out to her.

  The corner of Cam's mouth lifted again in an irritatingly knowing grin. "Do what?"

  "Look so damn good after no sleep?"

  Cam thought Blair looked just fine in her gray sweatpants and navy blue T-shirt, although both were a little too large for her. She was happy to see that Blair's primary mood appeared to be grumpy, rather than frightened. She knew from experience that the fear must be there somewhere, and that eventually it would surface, but for now, they could let it rest. "I don't need very much sleep."

  Ignoring her, Blair leaned against the counter and gratefully sipped the steaming brew. After the first few scalding swallows she asked, "What happened to your own clothes?"

  Cam hesitated for a second, then said lightly, "I had to throw them out. I borrowed these from the trunk of an NYPD patrol car. The officer assured me they were clean."

  Blair didn't smile; she was staring at the white gauze wrapped around the palm of Cam's right hand and disappearing under the unbuttoned sleeve of her blue shirt. Cam seemed fine now, but Blair remembered her exhaustion and pain of just a few hours before. "How bad is that?"

  Cam shrugged and started to speak, but Blair interrupted impatiently. "And don't say 'it's nothing' one more time or I swear to God I'll forget that you're sore and take you down right here." As she spoke, she lifted a hand and turned back the unbuttoned collar of Cam's shirt, drawing a sharp breath when she saw the angry swatch of blistered skin that extended along the lower side of Cam's neck onto her shoulder. "Jesus, Cam."

  Cam set her coffee down and met Blair's eyes. "It's been looked at," she assured her quietly. "It's just superficial - nothing too serious. It should be a lot better in a few days."

  "What were you thinking?" Blair demanded. She was rapidly accumulating memories of Cam in danger, or hurt, or literally dying, and the images didn't get any easier to take with reviewing. Her fear fueled her anger, and she added sharply, "Damn it, don't you care if you get hurt? Don't you think I care?"

  Cam looked away. It had happened so quickly, and then, after, there had been so much to do - so many things to check and organize and confirm. She had put it from her mind. "I wasn't thinking," she said softly.

  Blair stared at her, surprised. "You're always thinking. What happened this time?"

  "I - " Cam stopped, suddenly uncomfortable. Doyle was likely to show up at any minute, and she needed to brief the team and discuss strategy before that. "We should talk about this some other time."

  "There will never be 'some other time'," Blair said flatly. "Or a better time. Not for us, Cam. What happened?"

  "It was the engine stuttering that reminded me," Cam murmured.

  An uneasy feeling fluttered through Blair's chest. Cam looked pale. Blair stepped a little closer, resting her fingers lightly on the top of Cam's hand where it lay along the edge of the counter. "Go ahead. It's okay."

  Cam drew her mind from the past and focused on Blair's face, smiling gratefully, her eyes clearing. Blair's touch steadied her, anchored her in the present. "I was late for school and my father said I could ride with him. He went out ahead of me to tell the driver about the change in plans. When I came down the steps I could hear the car engine coughing like it was going to stall." She hesitated, running a hand quickly over her face. She was sweating, the cold sweat of fear and dark memories.

  Blair forced herself to breathe, but it was difficult around the choking dread as she began to understand what Cam was saying. They had never talked about it. They had had so little time to talk at all. Not about what mattered, she realized. "You were right there?"

  Cam nodded. "About twenty feet away, I guess, when the bomb exploded. It knocked me down." She was clutching the counter and made a conscious effort to relax her grip, to keep her voice even. "When I got up the flames were so high, and it was so hot - and I, I couldn't get close." She looked at Blair, her eyes shadowed with old misery. "I was too scared."

  "Cam," Blair whispered, lifting her hand to caress her cheek. "Even if you could have - you know -"

  "I know," Cam said. "But I should have tried ."

  "You were a child then," Blair argued gently. "And yesterday you weren't, and you still couldn't have saved either of them."

  Cam closed her eyes briefly and nodded. "I know."

  Blair shook her head in frustration and sympathy, hearing the guilt still heavy in Cam's voice. Knowing and believing were two very different things. She was torn between wanting to shake her and wanting desperately to hold her. "Do you have any idea how crazy you make me when you do things like you did yesterday?"

  "Some," Cam admitted softly, turning her palm so that their fingers met briefly.

  "That's progress, I suppose," Blair sighed.

  "I don't want you to worry about me," Cam began before Blair cut her off.

  "Please! Don't push your luck, Roberts," Blair snapped. She withdrew her hand and pointed to Cam's arm. "What about changing the bandages?"

  "I'll have Stark or Savard give me a hand," Cam said with a shrug. "I was just about to go shower. I still smell like smoke."

  "The hell you will," Blair said sharply. "I might just trust Stark, but I have no intention of letting Renee Savard put her hands on you for any reason, under any circumstances."

  "I can assure you, Ms. Powell, you have no need to worry," Cam said, her voice dark and intimate. Don't you know that?

  Somehow as they had talked, they had moved slowly closer, until now Blair's hand rested on Cam's hip, and Cam's fingers brushed softly up and down Blair's arm. There was space between them, but those few inches shimmered with heat.

  "Thank you for coming to my room last night," Blair said quietly, her lips inches from Cam's. "I don't think I could have stood waiting much longer."

  "I'm sorry it took me so long," Cam answered, her eyes unable to leave Blair's. She shuddered faintly as Blair moved near enough for their thighs to touch. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Blair," Cam said, her voice heavy and thick. "I never meant that. I don't know any other way to do this."

  "You really piss me off, Commander," Blair murmured, moving her hand upward to rest her palm against Cam's chest. "And I'm not saying I like any of this, and I don't intend to change my mind any time soon. But still -- " She slipped her hand under the collar and caressed the uninjured side of Cam's neck. "You make me crazy."

  Cam answered the call in Blair's deep blue eyes and lowered her head to kiss her.

  "Good morning, Commander, Ms. Powell," Renee Savard said smoothly as she walked through the door and headed directly toward the coffee machine. She'd always thought that the best way to handle an awkward moment was to move through it. And since her presence would have been obvious in another second, retreat was not possible.

  Cam straightened and stepped back from Blair. "Agent Savard," she said easily.

  Blair watched Cam's transition, more in fascination than anger. A se
cond before, Cam's body had been about to meld with hers. She had felt the heat and the urgency rippling under her fingers. Now, Cam stood coolly, not a hint of disturbance or discomfort on her face. Blair had no doubt that Renee Savard suspected what had been about to happen between them, but suspecting and observing were two different things. Somehow, she did not think it would matter to Savard, but she had to admit that if it had been Patrick Doyle who had walked through that doorway, it would have been difficult for both Cam and herself. It was an acknowledgment she had been forced to make many times in her life. She had been forced to be cautious, and sometimes she had been forced to hide. She hated it; she had never accepted it; but there had been more than her personal integrity at stake. She had long recognized that she would need a very good reason to fight. Watching Cam slip effortlessly into her professional persona, she thought that perhaps she might finally have found that reason.

  Chapter twenty-three

  "We'll be briefing at 0900, Agent Savard," Cam said calmly as Savard started out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. Her voice was steady, but her autonomic nervous system was still responding to Blair's hands on her. She felt her own hands trembling and buried them in the pockets of her jeans.

  "Yes, ma'am," Savard replied, looking back from the doorway. The Commander met her gaze directly, her gray eyes completely unreadable. It wasn't that hard to read Blair Powell's expression, however. She was still looking at Cameron Roberts like she wanted to swallow her whole. Savard figured if she hadn't walked in at such an indelicate moment, Blair might have been better able to hide her feelings. She usually was.

  "Anything you need from me in advance, Commander?" Savard asked, withdrawing onto safer ground. She didn't imagine privacy was something either of these women had very much of, and it wasn't her job to infringe on what little they had.

  "I don't suppose you have a report from the FBI field team on when I'll have their videotapes from the park, do you?"

  For a moment, Savard looked away, embarrassed. She didn't want to admit that she was out of the loop, and had been ever since she had told Doyle that she would be happy to work on the inside with Egret's security detail, but that she wouldn't pass him information outside of channels. He'd been angry, but he couldn't order her to do it. It was a messy situation, but she was still FBI, and she'd keep their dirty laundry private. She simply shook her head. "I've had no updates since arriving here, Commander."