Radclyffe: Honor Reclaimed

"Is there anything you need, Ms. Powell?" Stark asked quietly as she slowed by Blair's side on her first pass through the plane.

"No, thank you." Blair was grateful that Paula moved on. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to think. She just wanted to be wherever Cam was. She'd tried Lucinda on the scrambled line, but got no answer. The significance of that was uncertain, but she suspected that her father's chief of staff was busy handling the aftermath of whatever had happened to result in casualties. Casualties. The very word made her feel ill. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and concentrated on clearing her mind of all thought. She focused on her breathing, letting the sensation and sound of the air flowing in and out of her body expand until she was aware of nothing else. Her heart rate slowed and her muscles relaxed as she prepared herself for the challenge that awaited her.

Stark crouched down in the aisle next to where Hara and Wozinski sat. She spoke quietly so the Marine would not hear her. "When we land, assume that no one is a friendly. That means medical and military personnel too. No one is alone with her except the commander."

The other agents nodded solemnly, neither voicing the question that was foremost in their minds, both wondering if the commander would be waiting for them at the end of their journey.

"Good." Stark stood and took a seat midway down the fuselage between Blair and the cabin door. She sat straight, staring directly ahead, with a death grip on the armrests. She mentally reviewed the things she would need to do as soon as the plane landed. She considered the positioning of the other agents around Egret and the fact that they would be understaffed for what had to be considered a significant security risk. She steadfastly did not think about Renee. She couldn't, because every time she did, a bubble of panic rose into her chest and threatened to choke her. And there was no room for it, no time for it, no opportunity for her to feel anything about anyone except Blair Powell.

So she didn't.

*

Mercifully, the jet landed at an Army base adjoining the hospital, and a jeep sat idling by the runway, waiting for them. Within ten minutes of touchdown, they were escorted through a rear entrance to McDonald Army Hospital. A muscular, dark-haired, olive-skinned man in his fifties, dressed in scrubs, met them just inside the doors. Incongruously, he glanced at Stark, who walked by Blair's side, and saluted smartly.

"I'm Captain Olivieri, the chief of surgery. If you'll come this way, please." He turned smartly on his heel and strode off.

"Captain," Blair said as she hurried with him, Stark on her opposite side, "we have several of our people who might be injured. Commander Roberts, Special Agent—"

"Yes, ma'am. I was instructed to bring you directly to the treatment room."

"If you could just..."

He pushed aside a curtain that enclosed the last treatment room at one end of a hallway filled with emergency equipment, suture carts, defibrillators, and other medical paraphernalia. "Ma'am."

Blair glanced inside and for one brief instant, everything receded from her consciousness but Cam. "Oh God."

Cam sat propped up on a treatment table, a pillow behind her back and an ice pack on her neck. An angry bruise on her right cheek extended to her lower lid, which was partially closed. Her eyes, however, were blessedly clear, and as soon as she saw Blair, she smiled. Blair smiled back, her heart lifting.

"Hey," Blair said softly as she started forward.

Cam looked past Blair to where Stark stood in the doorway. She tried to speak, but no sound came out.

Captain Olivieri said curtly, "No talking. That was our arrangement. If you try, I'll slap you in the ICU and put a tube down your throat."

Blair saw the oxygen mask sitting by Cam's right hand and realized that Cam must have taken it off. She looked anxiously at the surgeon. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Against doctor's orders, Cam forced out a barely recognizable word. "Star..." Her face contorted with pain and she leaned her head back, closing her eyes as if the effort had exhausted her.

Instantly, Blair reached for the oxygen mask and put it over Cam's lower face. "I take it she's supposed to be wearing this," she said over her shoulder. Her voice was steady but her hands were shaking.

"It's humidified oxygen," the surgeon explained. "She has significant tracheal edema from the blunt injury, and-—" He stopped as Cam suddenly sat forward and pulled the oxygen mask off.

Blair narrowed her eyes and followed Cam's hand as she pointed vehemently at Stark once again. Nodding, Blair said, "Captain, do you have any information on Special Agent Renee Savard?"

"Savard?" Olivieri looked confused. "Yes. She's in surgery."

"How is she?" Blair asked quickly, watching the color drain from Stark's face.

"She should be out anytime now. They're just doing a washout of the wound—"

"How about giving us a quick rundown of her injuries, Captain," Blair interrupted when Cam stiffened and made another abortive attempt at speaking. Blair squeezed her shoulder. "Stop it."

"She has a nonthreatening GSW to the left lower extremity. X-rays reveal no evidence of bony injury, but the orthopedic surgeons wanted to irrigate the wound and make sure the lateral collateral ligament had not been damaged. She should be fine."

"Thank you, Captain." Blair smiled at Stark. "If you want to find out where they'll be taking her, Paula, go ahead."

Stark clasped her hands behind her back and locked her knees, trying to appear steadier than she felt. She swallowed once and then said clearly, "Thank you, Ms. Powell. I'll be right outside in the hall here." With that, she stepped back several feet and closed the curtain, giving Cam and Blair privacy. There was no way she could leave. It wasn't even a consideration, and she knew that Renee would understand. Renee was going to be all right, and knowing that gave her all the strength she needed to be patient. She leaned against the wall where she could see the hall in both directions and took a few gulps of much-needed air.

"Now," Blair said to Captain Olivieri. "Tell me about Agent Roberts."

"She has a badly contused trachea and a fracture of the arytenoid... uh, that's one of the cartilages forming the vocal cords. She shouldn't speak, and by rights, she should be in the ICU on a monitor, because if the swelling increases—" He frowned when Cam made a hand motion, waving him to silence.

Blair turned her back to the surgeon and put her face very close to Cam's. "You listen to me. I want to know. And I don't want to hear anything coming from you. Not a single sound." Then, very gently, she kissed her on the mouth. Keeping her arm tightly around Cam, she looked back at the surgeon. "Go ahead."

"Ah—well, that's it really. Vocal rest, a three-week course of steroids, and a laryngoscopy in ten days to check for healing. I recommended twenty-four hours in-house observation, but—"

"I think if you give me explicit instructions, I can see that Agent Roberts is appropriately observed. Several of my security team are EMTs."

He looked sheepish. "Yes, ma'am." He backed up. "I'll see that those are typed up for you."

"Thank you."

Once they were alone, Blair pressed her palm to Cam's cheek. "Does it hurt, darling?"

Cam shrugged.

"The truth."

Cam grinned weakly and nodded.

"On a scale of one to ten?"

Cam held up both hands, eight digits extended.

"Oh, then, that's not so bad." Blair rested her forehead against Cam's and closed her eyes. "I love you. I can't take too many more of these scares."

Cam wrapped her arms around Blair's waist and pulled her as close as she could, sliding one hand beneath Blair's hair to caress the back of her neck.