Radclyffe - Honor Guards

"Is this because of today?"

"Partly, yes. But ever since we got back from Europe, I've been struggling to feel okay about being without you. Today made me realize that there are no certainties in life, and that the most important thing in mine is you."

"Oh, Christ, I love you." Cam turned on her side and gathered Blair into her arms, their bodies joining along their lengths. She cupped the back of Blair's neck in the palm of her hand as she kissed her, still gently, but deep and long. When she drew her mouth away, she whispered, "If I lost you, it would kill me."

Blair gave a small cry and tightened her hold on her lover. She pressed her face to Cam's neck and stroked her hand up and down Cam's back, over her shoulders, until finally she laced her fingers into Cam's hair. "We'll take care of each other. We'll be together— do you hear me? We're going to be together. I promise."

Finally, safe in the comfort of her lover's arms, Cam slept.

The first thing she saw was Parker, lying on her back, her arms stretched out to her sides. Her eyes were open, empty, glazed with that peculiar blankness that only death can bestow. The crimson starburst in the center of her chest seemed nothing more than an afterthought once she'd looked into those eyes.

Turning, she ran, the breath burning in her chest, the muscles in her legs trembling, threatening to abandon her before she could reach... She almost tripped on the leg extending out into the stairwell from the landing just above. Grasping the metal railing with her free hand, clutching her weapon in the oilier, she looked down. Stark lay still, a perfect maroon circle punched between her thick, dark brows. A river of red snaked down from that tiny crater and pooled in the corner of her eye before overflowing onto her cheek like tears.

Oh Jesus. I'm going to lose them all.

Heart pounding, stomach heaving, she stared up the final flight of stairs to the solid gray metal door at the top. Beyond that door lay everything that mattered in her life. She couldn't move her legs. She couldn't climb the stairs. She couldn't reach—would never reach—the top in time. She crumpled to her knees, her weapon dropping unnoticed from her limp fingers. Hands clutching at cold stone, she dragged herself upward, one agonizingly slow step at a time.

When she finally reached the door, there was no handle.

It's so heavy. I can't open it. Please. Please. I have to get through.

By the time she'd pried her fingers into the narrow crevice around the edges and inched the door open, her hands were torn and bleeding. Still on her knees, she fell through to the other side and saw, down the long tunnel of the hallway, the body outside the open door. Every laborious inch cost her blood, every breath clawed at her screaming lungs, and the terror in her belly eviscerated her with razor-sharp talons.

A lifetime later, her vision dim with sweat and tears, she touched a trembling hand to the pale, cold cheek. A single drop of blood, dew on the rose, lay like a forgotten kiss upon her lover's lips.

Blair. Oh God, Blair.

With a silent scream, Cam jolted awake, rolled from the bed, and stumbled hurriedly to the bathroom. She'd barely managed to get the door closed behind her, automatically thumbing the lock, before her legs gave out and she was on her knees, vomiting. It hurt, in her body, in her heart, as the images seared into her brain one after the other. Her stomach rolled, and she continued to retch long after there was nothing left inside her but grief.

In the distance, she heard a muted shout and felt the faint vibration of the bathroom door shaking. Some part of her brain registered that if she didn't get to her feet, get the door open, Blair would break it down. Pale and dizzy, she pulled herself up with one hand on the sink and turned on the cold water. She cupped her hands under the tap and splashed her face until her head stopped spinning.

"Cam! Cam, open the door!"

The words were clear now, and the pounding incessant.

Blinking to clear her vision, Cam opened the cabinet above the sink and fumbled out the small bottle of mouthwash. She rinsed, gagging again, but finally managing to hold everything in at last.

"Just a minute," she called hoarsely. She took a breath, steadied herself, and unlocked the door.

Blair's eyes were wild as she came flying in. Her voice vibrated with fear and fury. "Don't you ever lock me out again when you need help."

"Blair," Cam said weakly, "I—"

"Oh God, what is it?" Blair cried, her trembling hands framing Cam's face. "Are you sick? Cam...oh, Cam." Tears overflowed her lashes and she pulled Cam against her, running hands over her shoulders, her back, wanting desperately to shield her, heal her.

"Dream," Cam gasped, wrapping her arms around Blair's waist and holding on. "Just give me another minute."

"All right, darling. It's all right." Blair found Cam's hand, clasped it tightly, and gently drew her back into the bedroom and into bed. Her heart was pounding, her own stomach tight with dread and the lingering panic she'd felt upon awakening to the terrifying sound of Cam moaning. She'd never, never known Cam to break. The very thought of how much pain her lover must be in for that to happen tore her heart to shreds.

Working hard to keep her voice steady and calm, she settled Cam against her side and stroked her face gently. "Sweetheart, can you tell me?"

"It was just a dream. A very bad dream," Cam replied, her voice stronger as the night terror left her. "I saw Parker...she was dead. Then Stark...her, too." Cam pressed her forehead hard to Blair's shoulder and closed her eyes tightly. "Oh God, then...you."

"No," Blair soothed, brushing her fingers through Cam's hair, her free arm holding her close. "No, darling. Not me. Not Stark. We're here. We're both all right."

Cam shivered. "I couldn't reach you. I couldn't save you." She lifted her face, her dark eyes bleeding with loss. "I couldn't save Parker, and that's no dream."

Blair held her lover's gaze. "I know. I'm so sorry." She kissed Cam's forehead, then her mouth, tenderly. "If there was any way you could have stopped what happened today, I know that you would have." When she felt Cam stiffen, she said quickly, "No. It's true. Tragic, horrible things happened to so many people today. Things probably no one could have stopped. Perhaps someday we'll know who or why or how, but of one thing I'm certain. If you hadn't been there, I'd be dead."

"I was so fucking scared that I couldn't keep you safe." The words burned in Cam's throat.

"But you did." Blair brushed her lips over Cam's again. I forget—we all forget—-what that costs you. As she guided Cam's head down to her breast, wanting never to let her go, she murmured, "We're together now, and I'm not going to let anything change that. Ever."

The sound of Cam's phone woke them just after five. Cam's head pounded, but it was a clean, sharp headache with none of the sickness she'd felt the night before. Blair was beside her, naked and warm and alive. She felt her world right itself as she rolled over and picked up her phone.

"Roberts." She stretched out an arm as Blair moved closer to curl against her and wrap an arm around her waist. Automatically, Cam rested her chin against the top of Blair's head. "Yes sir, we're secure. No problems, and I don't anticipate any. Yes, sir." Cam extended the phone to Blair. "Your father again." "Hi," Blair said. "You're at the residence? Is everything okay?...Yes, all right, if Cam thinks we should." Blair laughed quietly, rubbing her palm over Cam's chest. "Yes, Dad, I understand that you're the president. But she's my security chief."

"Blair," Cam whispered urgently.

Blair looked at Cam. "Well, you are."