Radclyffe: Honor Reclaimed

"You are the first daughter's security chief, Agent Stark."

"Fine, then they can call me Chief," Stark's tone left no room for argument.

"I imagine that will work," Cam observed mildly. "Blair doesn't know yet."

"Oh, man."

"Assistant Director Carlisle advised me of the director's decision just before the meeting this morning."

"Does the president know?" Stark asked.

"I imagine he does, although the way these things work, he was probably informed by the security director after the fact."

Stark perked up. "Then it's possible he could still reverse the decision."

Cam shook her head. "No, I don't think he will. This action is the right one, and he'll recognize that. Plus, considering everything else that's just happened, he's not going to oppose any recommendation made by his security advisors. Or the DOD."

"I know that the conclusion looks right from the outside," Stark said, meeting Cam's eyes, "but those of us on the inside know it's just wrong. There's no one better for this job than you. And we need the rest of the team."

"I agree with the last part. I'm going to do everything I can to see that our people are cleared and back on the job just as soon as possible." Cam stood. "Let's walk over to the residence. I'll talk to Blair while you review the Eyes Only docs."

Stark kept pace by Cam's side, wishing she could talk to Renee. Wishing that she could share her misgivings and uncertainties, because she understood that outwardly she must never allow them to show. She glimpsed Cam's face as they approached the security checkpoint at the White House and saw nothing but calm. She wondered as she had so many times before what feelings the commander kept hidden from everyone, and at what cost.

*

Blair looked up and sketched a wave in the air as Cam walked into her suite, then smiled into the telephone. "I miss you too. Believe me, I'd rather be home than here." Her expression grew somber. "How is it up there?"

Cam removed her jacket and weapon harness and placed them on a small table just inside the door. The sitting room adjoined Blair's bedroom and was furnished much as the other rooms in the White House, with original American period pieces. She walked to the minibar tucked unobtrusively into one corner of the room, pulled a Pellegrino from the small refrigerator, and carried it to the sofa. Blair was curled up on the opposite end talking, Cam surmised, to her best friend and art agent, Diane Bleeker. As Cam sipped the sparkling water, Blair drew her legs up onto the couch and settled her feet in Cam's lap.

"I'm coming up with my father in the morning," Blair said. "I'll call you as soon as I'm free and we'll get together."

Cam rubbed her thumb up and down Blair's instep as she listened to the conversation. Clearly, her lover had been busy in her absence. The president would need to visit the site of the tragedy to show the world that the United States did not bow to terrorism, but the last place Cam wanted Blair was in Manhattan so soon after the attack. There was no way, despite the hundreds of local and federal law enforcement agents scouring the region, that the area could be remotely secure. Guarding the president was going to be a nightmare. Adding Blair to the mix would only complicate matters further. Cam switched her attention to the opposite foot and closed her palm around the delicate bones and muscles beneath the nearly translucent skin, kneading gently. Blair traced the toes of her free foot back and forth along the inside of Cam's thigh.

"You heard from her already!" Blair's voice rose in surprise. "Really—she's still in Manhattan? The news reports said there are hundreds of people still stranded because of the canceled flights." She stretched and pushed her foot higher between Cam's legs. "Well, I guess if she can't get a hotel room, she could always stay in your guest room for a few days." She laughed. "Very convenient. I'll call you tomorrow. See you soon."

"Diane, I take it?" Cam asked as Blair switched off the phone and placed it on the floor beside the sofa.

"Mmm. Apparently Valerie called, and she's temporarily stranded in New York. Diane is very pleased about that,"

"Huh." Cam wasn't altogether comfortable discussing a woman with whom she had been intimate, although under extremely unusual circumstances and in what now felt like a different lifetime. And even though Blair knew about her liaison with Valerie, Diane did not. "What's this about you going to Manhattan tomorrow?"

"I'll fill you in on the details later." Blair pushed the heel of her foot gently against Cam's crotch. "You know, there's nothing on the agenda for today."

Cam grasped the foot teasing between her legs and stilled the entirely too pleasant motion. "I expect to get called back to Justice for my debriefing this afternoon."

Blair craned her neck toward the Seth Thomas clock on the mantelpiece. "It's not noon yet." She rocked Cam's thigh with her other foot and her expression grew distant. When she spoke again, the bantering tone had disappeared and her voice was thick, as if with unshed tears. "You know, I keep thinking about Cynthia and Mac. When I do, all I want is your skin against mine. I need to hear you breathe. You, feel like the only solid thing in my world right now."

"Oh, Christ," Cam whispered. She lifted Blair's legs and slid closer to her on the couch before slipping her arm behind Blair's waist and drawing her into an embrace. She kissed her mouth, then nuzzled her face in thick blond hair that smelled of sunshine and roses. "I love you. And God knows, I want you."

Blair pulled back, her eyes narrowing. "But?"

"But we need to talk about a few things."

"What happened with Carlisle this morning?" Blair withdrew from Cam's embrace and inched away, as if she wanted space in which to carry out the conversation. "What's wrong?"

Cam shook her head, wishing that Blair could not read her quite so well. "Nothing's wrong."

"There's something you're not telling me. You promised me you wouldn't do that."

"No. Stewart called me right before the briefing this morning, so there was no time to tell you."

"Tell me what, Cameron?" Blair's voice had grown cold and her eyes were a hard, icy blue.

Fast and hard seemed to be the only way to do it, because Blair was best at handling sharp, swift pain. "I've been replaced. Stark's your new security chief."

Blair grew utterly still. "You can't be serious."

"I am."

"Son of a bitch!" Blair jumped up and paced in a small, tight circle before storming back to stand within inches of Cam's legs. "They can't do this. Does my father know?"

"I don't know. I think he does, bu—" Cam caught Blair's wrist as she was about to pick up the phone. "Wait."

"For what? For you to tell me one more time that I have to accept everyone else's decisions when they affect my life?"

"This is all about your life, baby," Cam said gently. "It's about taking care of you the best way possible."

"You take care of me. I take care of you." Blair pulled her arm from Cam's grip. "That's what lovers do."

Cam stood, but she did not try to hold her. "This isn't about us as a couple. It's about you as the first daughter. I've been relieved of my command because I almost let someone assassinate you. The entire team has been suspended, with the exception of Stark."

Blair's head jerked back as if she'd been struck. "Everyone? This is crazy."

"A board of inquiry will investigate what happened, including the possibility that other members of your security team were involved. As soon as our people are cleared, I'll push Carlisle to get them back on duty."

"Why did they make an exception for Stark?"