Radclyffe - Honor Guards

Still coming, Blair gripped Cam tightly, stroking her face fitfully as she gasped, "I love you. I will always love you."

When her vision cleared and her breath returned, Cam settled onto her back and pulled Blair into her arms. "Can you tell that you're all I need?"

"Yes." Blair rested her cheek on Cam's breast. The ridge of scar tissue, harder than the soft skin surrounding it, reminded her of how it felt to nearly lose the woman she loved. She ached to think that Cam would ever experience that terrible pain because of her There was no answer for that, no protection against it, no promise or guarantee that she could make that might not be a lie. There was only this moment and the hope of those to come. "While I live, you will always have my heart."

"And you mine," Cam whispered, "as long as I live." The phone rang, shattering the stillness, but not the calm that suffused their souls.

Blair reached behind her for the receiver, and returning her eyes to Cam's, said steadily, "This is Blair Powell."

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

1000 27 August 2001

B lair spoke only a few words, listening with no change in her expression, as Cam, breath held, searched her lover's eyes for the truth.

"Yes, thank you, I'll do that. No, I'll see someone here," Blair said quietly.

See someone here. The ache in Cam's chest exploded with greater force than when the bullet had torn through her. That day as she had lain bleeding on the sidewalk, staring at the bluest sky she'd ever seen, she'd had one brief instant of awareness that she was dying. But just before she'd gone down, she'd seen Blair dragged back inside the building out of harm's way. With that image in her mind, she'd had no fear and no pain. Her duty was done, and Blair was safe.

Now, all she felt was pain.

Struggling for calm, desperately searching for the reservoir of strength that had carried her through her father's death, her own near-death, and the loss of an agent under her command, Cam lay very still, afraid that if she moved at all Blair would feel her shaking.

"I'll let you know where I need my records sent. Thank you again. You've been wonderful." Blair pushed the off button and held the receiver against her chest. She met Cam's eyes, her pupils so wide her blue irises were nearly as dark as Cam's troubled gray ones. "I'm..." Blair's voice cracked and she swallowed. "I'm negative. I don't have the gene."

"Oh, good Christ." Cam closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, then reached for her lover. There was only an inch between them, but it was far more than she could bear. Still, she was mindful of Blair's recent surgery and as much as she wanted to hold her tightly, she contented herself with easing her palm over Blair's neck and down her back. "God, baby, I'm so happy."

Blair laughed unsteadily. "I can't believe it. I was so sure I'd be positive." She caught Cam's hand and held it tightly. "I was trying to convince myself that it would be okay if I had to have more surgery."

"It would be okay." Cam kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth. With her fingers gently caressing Blair's face, she murmured, "No matter what, it would be all right. But I'm just so damn glad you don't need it."

"She'll send my test reports to my gynecologist, and I'll just go back for my regular twice-yearly checkups." Blair kissed Cam, long and deep. When she pulled away, her eyes were hazy with love and desire. "It's over, darling. It's really over."

"Yes." Cam leaned up and guided Blair onto her back. Very carefully, Cam leaned down and kissed the inside of Blair's left breast, just opposite the biopsy site. Then she raised her head and kissed Blair's mouth. "I love you."

With a hand cupped behind Cam's neck, Blair drew her lover back down to her other breast. As she felt Cam's lips enclose her nipple, she murmured, "Love me again."

1015 28Aug01

Miami Beach, Florida

Report - Strike Team Two. Pilot confirms purchase of one-way ticket at United Airlines ticket counter without incident. Cost $1600.00. UA Flight 175 to Los Angeles.

2230 30 August 2001

"Here," Cam said abruptly, "don't lift that. I'll get it."

"Cameron," Blair said irritably, "it's a painting. It's not heavy."

"Why don't I get it," Diane said smoothly, reaching between the two women to pick up the four-by-five-foot bubble-wrapped canvas. She smiled benignly at Cam and shooed away Blair, who was flushed and sweaty, with an impatient motion. "Why don't you two sit down somewhere and have a drink while I supervise loading the rest of these."

"I'm perfectly capable of doing it." Blair was tired and cranky and unreasonably anxious about the upcoming show. She'd been working nonstop for three days on too little sleep and too much caffeine, and her nerves were frayed. It didn't help that Cam was uncharacteristically edgy as well. It especially didn't help that they'd had little time alone together, and when they had, they were both prickly.

"Of course you are. Wonderfully capable—but they're mine now, and I'll see to them." Ignoring Blair's snarl, Diane pointed to a stack of similarly wrapped paintings against the wall when her gallery assistant and another employee arrived, escorted by Paula Stark. "Jamie, these are the ones that are going. Make sure to take them directly into the storeroom. Do not leave them in the van unattended."

"You got it," the young woman replied good-naturedly. She nodded to Blair. "Good evening, Ms. Powell."

Blair raked a hand through her hair and smiled. "Hi, Jamie. How are you?"

"Terrific. Really looking forward to your show." Jamie directed the young man with her toward the canvases. "Take the smaller ones last, Dick. Thanks."

Within a matter of minutes, the paintings, the culmination of a year's work, were gone. As Diane waved goodbye, Blair surveyed the nearly empty studio with a conflicting mixture of trepidation and anticipation. Some critical part of her soul was about to be exposed, and she could no longer protect, defend, or explain that part of herself. Her art would have to speak for itself. Why am I doing this? I'd be just as happy painting even if my canvases never left this room. For one insane moment, she wanted to follow Diane out to the elevator and tell her to bring the paintings back.

"You okay?"

"No," Blair snapped, jerking around to face Cam. "I can't believe I'm doing this. I don't even want to do this." She saw the surprise in Cam's face at the heat in her voice, and the fire instantly left her eyes. She leaned her hips against the back of the sofa and shook her head. "God, I'm being a bitch. Sorry."

"It's all right," Cam said as she walked over to her lover. "This last week has been hell."

Blair ran her fingers along the edge of Cam's silk lapels, then smoothed her palms over Cam's chest beneath the jacket. Her hand brushed the leather strap that crossed Cam's left breast to the weapon harness snugged beneath her arm. "It hasn't been a picnic for you either." She fingered the leather as she rested her forehead against Cam's shoulder and closed her eyes. "I thought after the news that I'm BRCA-negative I'd feel better, but I'm still all churned up inside."

Cam softly caressed Blair's neck before kneading the tight muscles in her shoulders. "It has to have brought up a lot of painful memories for you. That, and the surgery, and the pressure to get things ready for the show—no wonder you're a bit..." She stopped, searching for an appropriate word.

"Bitchy?" Blair suggested with a faint laugh.

"Well, that might be one term for it." Cam grinned.

"Okay, fair enough. But what about you?" Blair tapped Cam's chin with a fingertip. "What's bugging you?"

"Me?"

"Yes, Cameron. You. You're never restless, but every time you're up here you've been wearing a path in front of my windows."