Radclyffe - Honor Bound

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 that'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.

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 youcare if you get hurt? Don't you thinkI 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'realways 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 havetried ."

"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.