Radclyffe - Honor Reclaimed

"I was hoping perhaps you would remember this," Valerie said against all good judgment, "until I return."

"Will you? Return?"

"If I can."

The regret in her voice was too genuine for Diane not to believe her. She settled her arms loosely around Valerie's waist, gratified when the other woman did not move away. "When you come back, will you tell me what it is you think I won't be able to handle?"

"If I can." Valerie couldn't help herself. She kissed her one last time, hoping desperately to satisfy the ache inside with something as simple as a kiss. Something she could explain away, if pressed, as a moment's indiscretion in the midst of a world gone mad. She knew she'd failed hopelessly when she found herself wanting nothing more than to keep on kissing her until there was nothing in her mind or her heart or her soul except Diane.

"Goodbye," Valerie murmured as she drew away. She reached behind her to open the door, her eyes still on Diane's.

Diane let her go. For reasons she did not understand, as she watched her leave, she whispered, "Be careful."

Chapter Eleven

I appreciate you appearing with me at the press briefing this morning," Andrew Powell said as he passed Blair a plate of freshly baked muffins.

"You don't have to thank me, Dad." Absently, Blair broke off a corner of one of the White House chef's specialties. "I feel like there's so little I can do as it is. If it sends a message to whoever's out there that we won't be manipulated by terrorists, I'll go on television with you every single day."

"I have a feeling you'd get tired of that pretty fast, but I'll remember the offer."

"I'm glad there was no mention of what happened to me." She shivered and quickly forced a smile. "I already have my face on the front page of too many tabloids."

"It was a judgment call," Powell admitted. "The press will want to pillory me if it comes out that we held that kind of news back."

"Dad, you don't have to—"

"It was my call, honey. I'm happy with it."

"Why did you decide to keep it quiet?" Blair put down her muffin and watched her father intently.

"A number of reasons. Most importantly, your privacy. You've had the press fixated on your private life for months, and this kind of news would make you morning television news program material." Her father's voice held an edge of anger. "And I don't want whoever's out there—or here—focusing on you as a target."

"Thank you," Blair said softly.

"No need to." The president leaned back in his chair and regarded Blair with a small frown. "It's probably going to be pretty rough this afternoon."

"I know. I'll be okay."

"I never doubted it."

"I'm not coming back with you tonight." Blair pushed her half-eaten breakfast aside. "I want to go home. I can't hide here, and besides, it's already making me crazy."

"I'd like you to wait until my security advisers tell me they think it's safe," Powell suggested mildly.

"You know it's never going to be safe" Blair said with asperity. "If I have Stark and Cam looking out for me, I'll be fine."

"How about if I ask Cam's opinion as to the timing?"

Blair's eyes flashed with temper, and then she laughed. "Jeez, Dad, I can see you're going to need a crash course in the dynamics of lesbian couples. That's kind of like asking the husband if it's okay for the wife to do something."

"Ouch." Powell laughed, coloring slightly. "Okay, I've got that in focus now. So, is it all right if I ask your new security chief and your ex-chief about the situation, just so I feel better?"

"Much better. And you're going to anyhow, with or without my okay, aren't you?"

"You've been around this game too long, I can see." Powell suddenly looked serious. "Yes, I'll want to be briefed on the potential risk to you before you leave here."

"Will you tell me what they say?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll try to follow their recommendations."

"Thank you." He hesitated, then added, "I wouldn't say this to anyone else except Lucy, but we're playing catch-up here, Blair, all of us. The Department of Defense, the CIA, the FBI—all of us were caught flat-footed on Tuesday. It's going to be a scramble for months until we get a system in place to anticipate and counter another event of this kind. I'm worried about you."

Blair reached across the table and took her father's hand. "And I'm worried about you. I've always been worried about you. But that's the life we have, and we have to trust the people whose job it is to take care of us, right?"

"You sound as if things aren't quite as hard for you as they used to be. Is that true?"

She shrugged. "If you mean is it any easier for me to have Secret Service agents trailing around after me twenty-four hours a day, no." She laughed. "Even when one of them is my lover. But I'm happier because I have Cam. She makes everything easier for me."

"Then I'm happy for you." He squeezed her hand and let go. "In case I haven't mentioned it, I like her a lot. It's hard for a parent to imagine their child with an entire life that doesn't involve them. You and I have never had enough time together, and now you're building your own life. I'm glad it's with her."

"I don't think you've ever said anything like that to me before," Blair said thickly.

"I'm sorry that I haven't, because you've always been the most important person in my life."

Blair brushed impatiently at her tears. "Okay. Enough of this." She took a breath and smiled tremulously. "I'll talk to Cam later about me going home or somewhere. If she's totally opposed, then we'll figure something else out. But I'm not staying here much longer. This place is a museum. I don't how you stand it."

"I don't—" Powell stopped as the phone gave the distinctive ring that indicated an urgent call. He grimaced. "Sorry. I have to take that."

"No problem, Dad." Blair rose. "I'll see you later." She expected no answer and got none as her father turned his attention to the newest problem at hand. Still, for perhaps the first time in her life, she felt that her father truly understood what was important to her, and that was enough.

*

Cam left Diane and Valerie on the balcony and returned to the kitchen, where she sat at the round, glass-topped table in front of the windows with her second cup of coffee. She dialed the residence and ran down her mental to-do list while answering the White House operator's usual questions. A minute later she was put through to her lover. Blair answered immediately.

"Hello?"

"Hey, good morning."

"Mmm, it is now."

"Yeah." Cam smiled. "How was your night?"

"Long. And lonely. How was yours?"

"Same." Cam leaned back in the chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. She was stiff and sore and tired, but listening to Blair's voice eased some of the tension that had knotted the muscles along her spine into a taut ladder of pain. "Have you been up long?"

"A few hours. I had breakfast with my father—well, part of one, at least, before he was called away."

"Everything okay?"

Blair sighed. "Okay is relative, isn't it? Apparently there was some kind of scare in a government complex in New Jersey. I'm not sure what it was all about, but I heard that he had to meet with someone from the NIH right away."

Cam frowned. She didn't like being outside the intelligence loop, even for a few hours. Ordinarily, something like this would have been brought to her attention immediately as Blair's security chief. She made another mental note to call Stark and inquire about significant developments that came up at the morning briefing. "How are you ?"

"I want to see you. I want to be where you are." Blair made a small sound of disgust. "God, I sound pathetic. But I've made my obligatory media appearances with my father—we've shown the world we're not afraid, and they'll believe it when they see us in Manhattan this afternoon if they're not convinced yet. I've done my part, which hardly seems enough."