Radclyffe - Honor Bound

"I'd like that to happen again," Marcy said just before they rejoined the others. "Somewhere, some time, when we won't have to stop."

Blair did not look back, and she did not answer.

Blair watched Marcy approach and shrugged again. "I don't think I sent her any kind of message at all. Nothing happened."

"That's not the way she tells it," Diane said off-handedly. "To hear her, you are the answer to a woman's dreams. She appears to be in danger of spontaneous combustion just from being in the same room as you."

"I can't help that," Blair said in irritation. "I can't control what other people fantasize."

Diane nodded, following Blair through the crowd toward the start line. "I absolutely agree, Blair," Diane responded, her tone uncharacteristically serious. "I like her, though. I like you, too."

Blair looked at her directly, a challenge in her eyes. "You have a point here?"

"I thought I did," Diane said. "God knows, I'm the last one to give advice. Just be careful with her. Especially if you know there's no chance."

Blair looked back, and just beyond Marcy, saw Cam. The contrast was striking - one blond, the other dark, sunlight and midnight. Her heart hammering, she said, "I'm not sure of anything anymore."

Stark glanced over at Savard and grimaced. She hoped her lithe companion, running effortlessly beside her, could not see her struggling to catch her breath.

Running - I hate running. Stupid form of exercise. Terrible for your feet. Murder on your knees. Give me a bike, or better yet - rollerblades.

Savard cast her a sideways look and grinned, a surprisingly charming grin, then called, "Isn't this great?"

"Oh yeah, fabulous! Love it," Stark replied, hoping that she sounded appropriately excited. No way was she going to let the FBI agent think she couldn't keep up. She'd run on bare feet first. Just to prove it, she picked up her pace a little bit.

"Could be worse duty," Savard commented.Or worse company.

She was enjoying her posting with the Secret Service more than she had imagined. She missed the prevailing sense of urgency that permeated everything the FBI seemed to do, even if it was just a routine wire tap, but she couldn't deny that Roberts and her team ran a tight, organized operation. And she also had to admit that Paula Stark was an interesting combination of straight-arrow dedication and startling naivete. She couldn't help but wonder if her refreshingly unsophisticated counterpart really had no clue as to how attractive she was or the fact that other people might think so. Savard reminded herself to stop watching Stark's butt and keep her eyes on the main target, who, come to think of it, had a very nice butt herself.

At that moment, Stark was doing the same thing, but without quite the same appreciation. The Commander and Egret were a few feet ahead of her and neither of them looked like they had even broken a sweat. In between ignoring the pain in her calves and attempting to look consumed with zeal for this madness, her primary responsibility for the day was crowd surveillance. Another nearly impossible chore, but a far more achievable goal than pretending enthusiasm for the next god knew how many miles.

The entire team had been provided with photos of the people expected to be in Blair's immediate vicinity during the run - primarily the race organizers, representatives of various cancer organizations, and political dignitaries from the city, state and national level. When she occasionally spotted someone she did not recognize, she radioed a verbal description to Mac in the communications van that was following behind the mass of runners, and more often than not, he made an immediate identification. If there was any question or concern, she could beam him an image from her handheld personal unit. He and several other agents conscripted from the local office for this particular event had been on site since daybreak, quietly photographing individuals as they arrived in the park. Then they ran all unknowns through computer links to the DMV, Armed Forces directory and the State Police files. She didn't know for sure, but she assumed that the FBI were doing the same thing from their own van as well. It would have been more efficient to combine their search capabilities, but the FBI hadn't offered access to their data banks. So much for interagency cooperation.

Not all of this was routine. The fact that Egret was now considered a high-risk subject dictated the extra precautions. Stark shifted the weight of her pistol in the quick release fanny pack she wore and said a small prayer of thanks as they crossed over the Brooklyn Bridge into Manhattan. She looked ahead, never so grateful in her life to see the Bowery.

Cam kept pace to Blair's right and just a half step behind her, a vantage point from which she could see anyone approaching from the right, left or rear. What she was watching now, however, was Marcy Coleman lean close to say something to Blair, her hand resting casually in the small of Blair's back. It might have been a friendly gesture, but Cam didn't think so. Not from the way the blond doctor had been looking at Blair for the last few miles.

Cam had seen Blair with other women before. Hell, she'd seen her have sex with other women. It had been different then. She hadn't particularly enjoyed watching Blair have casual sex with strangers, the biggest reason being that she had always thought Blair exceptional. She couldn't help thinking that Blair deserved something more than anonymous couplings. But it hadn't been her business then, and she had been able to put it out of her mind enough to work around it. The problem now was that she carried the imprint of Blair's skin burned into her nerve endings. She had surrendered to her and taken her and she knew the wonder of holding her when she was completely without her usual defenses. Now it was intolerable to see another woman touch her.

She looked away, scanning the nearby faces, forcing herself to review yet again the details of the rest of the day. She settled back into a comfortable rhythm, mentally and physically, as she took refuge in her responsibilities. They were approaching Fifth Avenue now, and before too long they would enter the south end of Central Park. Once there, security would be at its most difficult, and Blair would be at greatest risk. The park was always filled with people - runners, bladers, people pushing strollers, and tourists of all size and description. Students picnicked on the grass and lovers trysted amongst the outcroppings of rocks. The race ended in Sheep Meadow, a huge open field where a stage had been erected and equipped with sound and video for the closing activities. Blair, the Mayor, members of the American Cancer Society, and a few celebrities would be speaking from there.

It was an impossible area to isolate and contain. Blair would be exposed on the podium the entire time, particularly so when she gave the keynote address. The anticipated crowd would number in the thousands. The New York State Police would be providing the NYPD with additional troops for crowd control. That would leave the Mayor's security detail to concentrate on the area directly around the speaker's stands. Cam had met the Mayor's security chief and she was good. That was a plus. She intended to make full use of all of them.

Her mental planning was interrupted as Blair dropped back to run next to her.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Commander?" Blair asked. She was actually surprised to find thatshe was. She loved the exercise, but the event itself took a toll on her emotionally. It reminded her, even after all these years, of the horrible year when she was nine and everything in her life seemed to change overnight. She focused on Cam's face and let the memory slip away. "Beats sitting in front of the video monitors, wouldn't you say?"