by Radclyffe
She sipped the acid dregs in the mushy paper cup and remembered what it felt like to be touched the way Blair Powell had touched her. Even though she managed to put the memory from her mind most of the time, every now and then she would look at the President's daughter and remember her kiss. Then her blood would race and she'd long to feel that way again.
Stark realized that her mind was wandering down very inappropriate avenues and, ignoring her pounding headache and the faint disconcerting stirrings elsewhere, considered the facts. She knew the Commander was in town during those five days, because she has seen her briefly in a bar with Blair Powell. The timing certainly fit. It was more than that, though. It was a hundred little things that she had noticed since then but never quite 'seen'. It was the way they looked at each other, and the way they walked together - not touching, but connected just the same. Neither of them had been obvious, but when she considered everything as a whole, she thought that Savard might be right.
"How can you say that after only a week of being around them?" Stark asked somewhat argumentatively. It bothered her that the FBI agent had seen something she hadn't.
Savard smiled. "I know what women look like when they're in love."
Stark blushed and immediately cursed herself mentally for the reaction. It wasn't quite the answer she'd expected, and she hated the fact that her heart began to race in a very unprofessional manner. She was in the middle of a crisis situation and had responsibility for Egret's security until such time as Mac or the Commander arrived on scene, and here she was discussing something very improper with an FBI agent who might be reporting every word back to her dickhead of a superior. To make matters even worse, she was having very unprofessional thoughts about her FBI counterpart.
"Well," she began, and then stuttered to a stop when she realized that Savard was softly laughing. "What?" she asked belligerently.
"I apologize if I've upset you," Savard said, the lilt in her voice playful.
"I'm not upset," Stark said, definitely defensive now. She squared her shoulders and reached for the telephone. "I'm just busy, that's all."
Savard simply smiled again and returned to her report. She had been right about Stark the first day she had met her. She was cute.
Chapter Twenty
Hours had passed in silence, it seemed, with Stark or Savard or Grantstanding guard duty at the door. Finally, Paula Stark stepped into the room and said quietly, "Ms. Powell, if you would pick up the phone on the table next to you please."
For a moment, Blair hesitated, staring at the phone with a mixture of apprehension and wonder. Such a simple thing - contact with the outside world. Exhilarating, and somehow frightening. Then she reached for it and said, "Yes?"
For a moment all she heard was strange static, and then a faintly metallic version of the only voice she wanted to hear.
"I'm sorry. I couldn't get away before and I just now found a scrambled line. I can only talk a minute. Are you all right?"
Suddenly, Blair didn't care where she was or how long she would have to be there. This was the one thing she needed. "I'm fine. Are you hurt?"
"No."
The answer came too quickly, and even with the electronic interference, Blair heard that tone in Cam's voice that she always got when she was being official and avoiding a question. If she hadn't been so relieved to hear from her, she would have been pissed. There would be time for that later. "Cam? What's happening?"
"I'm sorry. I can't talk now, but I'll be there as soon as I can."
"Be careful."
Then there was only silence on the line. Nevertheless, for the first time since the explosion rocked her world, Blair was able to draw a full breath without feeling a hard ball of pain in her chest. Cam was safe - she was safe - and she had found the time in the midst of what must have been pandemonium to call her.
She replaced the receiver and looked across the room to where Stark stood next to the front door, glancing out the window. It was already close to ten p.m. "What are Mac and Cam doing back there?"
Stark turned from the window, satisfied that the two new FBI agents who had arrived an hour earlier were well positioned outside. She welcomed the additional surveillance assistance, because she and Savard and Grant were tired and stressed, and, even rotating shifts they couldn't adequately cover both the grounds and the interior. Even with the fibbies they were still under-manned, but that would get better once the Commander and the rest of the team arrived.
Blair watched her, waiting for an answer.
Stark's automatic response was a non-response, but when she looked into Blair's face, she caught an unguardedglimpse of her worry. Then she thought about what Savard had said about the Commander and her, and answered, "I imagine they're meeting with the ATF bomb unit, trying to get a profile on the bomb and the bomber. The first walk-through is always the most important. The Commander wouldn't leave that to anyone else."
Blair had an uneasy feeling she knew what that meant. "The walk-through?"
Stark hesitated. It wasn't exactly a pretty picture.
"The epicenter of the explosion was the lead vehicle," Savard said, walking in from the kitchen with yet more coffee. "Depending upon the nature of the accelerant, and the amount, and the exact placement of the device on the car, the blast radius could be anywhere from ten feet to a hundred yards. Anything and everything remaining in that area is potential evidence."
"Aren't there specialists to take care of that kind of thing?" Blair asked, her throat dry. 'Everything' included people too, she supposed.
Stark nodded. "Of course, from the ATF and the Bureau and most likely the NYPD and the State Police, too. It's probably a real jurisdictional snafu down there right now."
Savard snorted derisively. "That's putting it mildly." She was quite sure that's why she hadn't heard from her own chief. Doyle was undoubtedly trying to direct the activities by claiming that Federal interests had priority.
"So Cam isn't needed there, is she?" Blair persisted. God, why couldn't Cam just let someone else do this part? She couldn't imagine the horror of sifting through the debris that had claimed the life of someone she knew.
Stark stared at her, incredulous. "There's no way she's going to walk away until there's nothing else to find. Not when you were the target."
Stark was so certain, and there was an unmistakable edge of pride in her tone. Blair began to see why it was so hard for Cam to relinquish her position on the team. She was so clearly the leader.
"It could be a long time before they're done, then, couldn't it?"
Stark regarded her seriously for a moment, then smiled quickly. "If she said she'll be here, Ms. Powell, you can count on it."
*
She wasn't sleeping, just lying quietly in the dark. The soft tap on the door brought her upright, her heart pounding and her pulse racing. She glanced at the red digits on the bedside clock. Three twenty-two a.m.
"Yes," she called.
"Ms. Powell, it's-"
"Come in," she said urgently, fumbling on the bed for the terrycloth robe someone had considerately thought to stock in the bathroom. She was tightening the sashes on the garment when the door opened softly and then closed again. She hadn't turned on the bedside lamp yet, but the glow from the security lights cleverly hidden in the nearby trees was enough to illuminate Cam's unmistakable form.
"Are you hurt?" Blair asked immediately.
"No," Cam responded, her voice raspy.
They were six feet apart, each of them leaning forward slightly, and the silence hung heavily between them.
"Are you?" Cam whispered finally.
"No."
Cam took one step forward, hesitated, and then another. When she spoke, her tone held none of its usual reserve. Softly she asked, "Would you mind very much if I touched you - just to be sure?"
Something that had lain cold and frightened in Blair's heart began to warm. She trembled faintly with the kind of anticipation she barely remembered, from a time before she had l
earned to expect disappointment from a lover's promise. "No, I wouldn't mind that at all."
Blair took one step to meet her, and then Cam's arms closed very gently around her. Blair scarcely dared breathe, afraid that she might suddenly awaken and find it all a dream. Awaken and discover herself alone in the dark yet again, waiting for a woman to come and touch her. Waiting for a lover's touch to set her free. She held very still and willed the moment not to end.
Cam sighed, contenting herself with absorbing the warmth of Blair's body. As she held her, Blair's energy began to penetrate the numbness. She still hurt - everywhere. But being close to Blair - feeling her heart beat, listening to her quiet breathing, leaning on her strength - being with her, was soothing the edges of her pain.
Eventually Blair ran her hands up and down Cam's back slowly, tentatively, assuring herself that she was real. When she lifted her arms to encircle Cam's shoulders, pressing closer to her, Cam gasped sharply.
"Youare hurt!" Blair exclaimed.
"It's nothing," Cam murmured, resting her cheek against Blair's hair and closing her eyes. God, it was so good just to be near her. She hadn't realized how tired she was. There'd been so much to do. They'd had to cordon off the park in the immediate vicinity of Sheep Meadow, an impossible task in itself, and then there was the evidence collection, and the interviews. And she'd had to call Jeremy Finch's sister in Omaha. And then report on a secure line to DC and brief the deputy Security advisor and her own chief, assuring them that there was no imminent threat to Blair. And then make decisions about where to move her, how deeply to seclude her. Goddamned Doyle arguing with her every step of the way. And every minute wondering if Blair was hurt, even though Stark had reported no injury. And worrying thatBlair might still be in danger or simply just frightened, and alone. Twelve hours apart from her had felt like a year. She tightened her hold on Blair and gasped again at the sudden surge of pain down her arm.
"Tell me," Blair whispered.
"Just a few burns," Cam answered, nearly asleep on her feet. It really didn't hurt so very much just at that moment. She lifted her uninjured hand to stroke Blair's face. "You're sure you're all right?"
"I am now," Blair responded softly. She could feel Cam shaking, and as much as she didn't want to let her go, she knew she needed to. "Cam, you need to lie down."
"Let me just stand here a minute," Cam replied, her voice eerily flat and her words forced and slow. "I'll be fine if I just don't move for a minute. Doesn't really hurt if I don't move. Just a little tired is all."
"I know," Blair said. She began to move them both toward the bed, one careful step at a time. It worried her that Cam followed without protest. That wasn't like her. This wasn't just fatigue. "Cam?"
"Hmm?" Cam asked dimly, trying to remember what she needed to do next. "Stark. Stark's report. Need that."
"Did they give you anything, for the pain?"
Cam felt her legs hit something unyielding and she sat down. Bed. "No. I told them no. I have to talk - to - Mac."
"Are you in pain now?" Blair asked, guiding her back against the pillows.
"Not so much, really," Cam muttered. There was the strangest tingling in her right hand. Then, she was aware of Blair lifting her legs onto the mattress, removing her shoes. "I shouldn't be in here," she remarked suddenly, as if just realizing where she was.
"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 youlooked 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. "Ju
st how badly is she hurt?"