Honor Bound by Radclyffe © 2002
Pages 115 - 119
… Blair Powell, daughter of President, artist … Cameron Roberts, Secret Service Agent

Shortly after seven the next morning, Blair walked into the small galley-style kitchen. She found Cam in the process of pouring a cup of coffee, juggling the pot somewhat awkwardly with her left hand. The security chief 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.

"Do what?" The corner of Cam's mouth lifted again in an irritatingly knowing grin.
"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 nonchalantly, "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 bandage 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 her neck onto her shoulder. "Jesus, Cam."

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

"The doctors said that?"

"Ah...well." Cam hesitated again. "Not exactly...no."

"Never mind. I already know that you didn't go to the hospital."

"Checking up on me?" Cam asked, one eyebrow raised, but a smile in her eyes.

"What were you thinking?" Blair demanded, unswayed by Cam's attempt to distract her from the subject of her injuries. 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 only fueled her anger. "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.

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

"I..." Cam faltered, 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. Tell me what happened out there."

"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 on his way to the embassy. He went out ahead of me to tell the driver about the change in plans while I got my books. 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. A faint nausea made it hard to speak.

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, seeing her father disappear as his car roared into flame. She wasn't sure who she had been trying to rescue yesterday, but she had failed. Again. "I know."

Hearing the guilt still heavy in Cam's voice, Blair shook her head in frustration and sympathy. 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. "I don't mean to."

"You aren't indestructible, you know."

Cam laughed shortly. "Believe me, I do know that."

"That's some progress, I suppose."

© 2002 Radclyffe - Used with Permission