"God, that was great!" Blair exclaimed, stomping the snow from her boots and shedding her ski parka. She made her way to the small bar tucked into one corner of the huge lobby. "I'd love a glass of red wine," she said to the bartender. She turned to Diane and Cameron. "What about you two?"

"Martini for me," Diane said.

"Just coffee," Cameron responded.

"That’s a fabulous trail, don’t you think?" Blair enthused, tossing her head back and shaking her hair free. Her eyes were glowing, her cheeks faintly flushed from the cold air.

"It was everything it was advertised to be," Cam responded. She had been skiing since she was three, and it had taken every bit of her skill to keep up with Blair. The younger woman was not only expert, she was fearless. Even in the waning light of late afternoon, she had blasted down the unfamiliar trail with abandon. Diane, also a very accomplished skier, had followed several hundred yards behind them, skiing efficiently but more cautiously. Cameron had posted agents at the head and foot of the trail, in constant communication with her via radio, but she was the only one actually in near physical contact with Blair. Despite the low-risk factor of this secluded resort, she did not want Blair very far from her sight. She hadn't skied quite so aggressively in ten years. She knew her muscles would be sore in the morning. Nevertheless, the sight of Blair's pleasure made it worth it. She was absolutely radiant, and Cam had a glimpse of what she might be like were the circumstances different. There was a joy and lightness about her that Cam had not seen before. Blair was more than beautiful; she was breathtaking.

Cam looked away, gently placing her coffee cup on the bar top. "I think I'm ready for a shower." She turned slightly, murmuring into her lapel microphone. Almost instantly, a stocky red-haired man appeared in the doorway. Satisfied that her replacement was nearby, she quietly walked away.

Diane watched her leave, wondering if she had any idea how revealing the expression in her dark eyes could be. Diane had watched Cam watching Blair, and the pleasure in Cam’s gaze was painfully evident. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Diane wondered what force of will it took to control her feelings so completely. She wondered too why it was necessary.
 

Shortly after 5 a.m. the next morning, Blair pushed open the swinging doors to the kitchen and followed the scent of coffee. She found Helen seated at the large scarred wooden table, sipping the steaming brew and working on a crossword puzzle. Helen smiled a greeting and gestured toward the coffeepot.

"Thanks," Blair grunted, reaching for a cup. Moving slowly, she sat beside Helen at the table.

Helen glanced at her, then asked, "Where are your friends?"

Blair grimaced, blowing across the top of the liquid to cool it. "I'm sure there’s someone right outside the back door, and another one in the dining room."

"Doesn't seem like much fun," Helen remarked.

Blair appraised her cautiously. She saw no hint of anything other than open frankness in her face. She allowed herself a brief smile. "Well, I could lie and say I’m used to it. In fact, I am used to it, but I've never learned to ignore it. It bothers me."

"I can imagine. On the other hand, I guess it is impossible to let you run around by yourself."

Blair laughed. "Apparently so."

Helen leaned back, scrutinizing the striking young woman across from her. This was not the sophisticated, perfectly turned out image she was used to seeing on the television and in magazine articles. This woman was naturally beautiful, with no makeup, untamed hair, faded jeans and a baggy sweatshirt that did little to hide the suggestive swell of her breasts. Helen would never have recognized her as the President's daughter. But she would not have overlooked her allure either.

"May I ask how you came to stay here?" Helen asked.

"Friends of mine, Sarah Hughes Whitley and Anne Perry, have stayed here."

Helen raised an eyebrow slightly, remembering the attractive couple from earlier in the season. "Two of my most favorite guests," she responded.

Blair met her gaze evenly, and was pleased to see that the other woman did not avert her eyes. "I'm very fond of them."

"As am I," Helen responded. "You needn't be concerned about my discretion, Ms. Powell. My only interest is in providing my guests with good skiing and privacy. My only hope is that you have seven days of excellent running. I couldn't care less about your personal life."

Blair laughed. "Well, you may be the only person in the United States for whom that's true."

Helen laughed with her. "I think you may be right."

*********

An hour later, Cam walked into the lounge and helped herself to a cup of coffee from the large urn which stood always ready on the side board. She turned, sipping gratefully at the hot liquid, and met the eyes of Helen Craig. Helen stood regarding her silently, a slight smile on her face. Cam nodded and settled into one of the large leather chairs before the fireplace. After a moment, Helen joined her with her own coffee.

"She's already out on the slopes," Helen commented.

"Yes, I know."

"I suppose you do," Helen said softly. "It must be very difficult for her."

Cam had been doing her job too many years to fall into the trap of casual conversation with a stranger. Especially a conversation about someone as high-profile as the President's daughter. However, there was something so genuine about the woman beside her, she felt strangely at ease. "I imagine it is."

Helen might not have any experience with the interpersonal relationships between a woman like Blair and those who guarded her, but she had plenty of experience with the attractions of one woman for another. She had had the opportunity to observe the reserved Secret Service Agent and the First Daughter together the previous night at dinner, and later as they moved about each other in an uneasy truce in the lounge. Blair Powell had scarcely taken her eyes off the tall lanky security chief, and it seemed that Blair's best friend Diane was captivated as well. The object of their attention, however, had revealed little, unless you were watching her. And Helen had been watching her closely. When the others were engaged in conversation the dark-haired woman with the smoky grey eyes watched the President's daughter with a penetrating intensity that should have left marks on her skin. Helen had seen that look before, in the eyes of women who thought they knew their own hearts, and their own minds. In the eyes of women who refused to acknowledge the truth of their own feelings.

"It must be lonely for her. She could probably use of friend," Helen remarked quietly.

Cam sighed, and gently replaced her cup on the coffee table. She walked toward the fireplace, watching the bark glow red and crumble from the logs as they burned brightly to their own destruction. "She has friends. What she needs is to be free. That's something no one can give her."

"There are more ways than one to be free."

When Cam looked back, knowing she had no answers, she found she was alone.

*********

"You really shouldn't let Stark play pinochle. She's god awful, and a danger to herself. If she had been my partner, I would have murdered her," Blair commented as she joined Cam on the wide front deck of the ski lodge. The night was frigid, the air so crisp it tingled against her skin. The sky was impossibly black, with stars so bright, and so numerous, it felt as if she were standing on the edge of heaven. Their breath left small clouds of white crystals in the air around them. Despite the temperature, she was not cold. She had been waiting all evening for an opportunity to be alone with her security chief. Now that the time had come, her pulse raised and her belly stirred with an excitement she tried to ignore.

"Card playing is a necessity for a Secret Service Agent," Cam responded seriously, although the corners of her mouth turned up in a rare smile.

"Yes, I'm sure." Blair stepped closer until her body brushed the shoulder of the woman beside her. She was surprised when Cameron did not move away. "Then again, I'm sure that Secret Service agents need to be talented in many things."

Cam turned to face her, her eyes serious. "Ms. Powell, I know how difficult all of this is for you..."

"I don't think you do," Blair said, resting her gloved hand against Cam's shoulder. "It's damned inconvenient finding a way to get one's security chief into bed without creating a national scandal."

"Perhaps there's a message there."

"There may be, but I have no interest in it. All I'm interested in is you."

Cam stepped back just enough to break their contact. Blair Powell was easily the most attractive woman she ever known. If that weren't enough, Blair was touchingly vulnerable in her unguarded moments. Cam wished there were some way to ease the younger woman's pain. But she could not allow her sympathy to interfere with her effectiveness. She reminded herself that the beautiful seductress before her was not truly interested in her, but rather wanted to use her as the tool to break the chains of her invisible prison. Cameron knew this, and because she did, she ignored the hammering of her heart and the rush of blood into her loins.

"I'm afraid you have mistaken my attentions. Your physical well-being is my only concern. I am not interested in anything other than that."

Blair felt the words rip through her. Although her tone had been light and teasing, she had been serious about her offer to Cam. She had not approached a woman with true desire in more years then she could count. It hurt, this rebuke. Her pain angered her, and as she turned and walked rapidly toward the door, she called caustically, "Don't mistake lust for affection, Commander. My interest in you, as I believe you once said, is strictly biological."

Cameron watched her go, struggling with her own disappointment. Of course she knew that she was only a potential conquest, but that did not lessen the pain of Blair's words.

**********

A knock on her door brought Cam from deep sleep into adrenalized arousal in an instant. She grabbed her gun from the night table as her feet touched the floor. The bedside clock read 4:44 a.m. Cam looked through the peep hole and cursed silently to herself when she saw the figure on the other side. She opened the door an inch and whispered, "What is it, Stark?"

Paula Stark stared white faced at her boss. She swallowed once audibly, and licked her suddenly dry lips nervously. "I need to talk you, Commander."

"Can't it wait?"

"No ma'am, it can't."

Cam opened the door to admit her young subordinate, replacing her gun in its holster on her table. She switched on the bedside lamp and motioned Stark to a chair at the small desk in front of the windows. She sat down across from Stark and looked at her inquiringly. For a moment, she thought that Stark might cry.

"I need to be transferred," Stark stated flatly.

"Is there some reason you felt you needed to wake me in the middle of the night to tell me this?" Cameron asked sharply. She had a bad feeling she knew where this conversation was going.

"I needed to tell you now. I need to leave in the morning."

Cam sighed and leaned back from the table. She ran both hands briskly over face, then peered intently at the pale young woman across from her. "Do you want to tell me what this is all about?"

"I--I don't feel I can continue to carry out my assignment."

"That's not what you told me two weeks ago," Cam stated.

Paula Stark raised her eyes to Cam's for the first time. Her shoulders stiffened slightly as she stated, "I hadn't slept with her then."

Something hard settled deep in the pit of Cam's stomach. She clenched her jaw to stifle the curse that leapt to her lips. She stood abruptly and paced to the other side of the room, turning so quickly in the small space that Stark flinched.

"Are you out of your mind?" Cam seethed, her fury barely contained. She knew instinctively she was handling this poorly, but her immediate reaction was one of deep-seated anger, and uncomfortably, something that felt a great deal like jealousy.

"I didn't know it was going to happen. It was--I don't know--it just, she--" Stark raised her hands in a helpless gesture. "She asked me, and I just couldn't say 'no'."

"Jesus Christ," Cameron muttered. Was there no end to the chaos that woman could create? Now she had to deal with the potential ruin of a very capable young woman's career. "How do you feel about her now?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. It was as if she had never considered the question before. "I don't know."

"Are you in love with her?" Cam asked quietly. For some reason, the words were hard to get out.

"I don't think so," Stark said, clearly embarrassed. "It was--physical."

"Yes, I'm sure it was," Cameron said under her breath. She refused to think about the two of them together, but it was difficult keeping the image of Blair making love with this woman from her mind. She shook her head, forcing herself to deal with the real issues at hand. "I wish that there was some way I could overlook this, but I can't. Even if you have no personal feelings for her, I can't trust you to be objective. I can't trust you not to allow your relationship with her to cloud your judgment. It could be dangerous for her-- and it could be dangerous for you."

Stark looked down at her folded hands resting on the tabletop, her expression one of abject misery. "I know. I've thought of nothing else for the last three hours. Ever since I left her room, I've been agonizing over what to do."

"Why did you tell me?"

Stark looked at her in surprise. "Because if you found out, it would ruin my credibility forever. I made a mistake, but I am not irresponsible."

Cameron looked at her with growing respect. Stark did not drop her gaze as Cameron studied her unwaveringly. "Can you swear to me that there is no romantic attachment between you and Ms. Powell?"

"Yes ma'am, I swear."

"You may continue with your post, Agent Stark. If I find that your judgment or performance is compromised in any way, I will transfer you immediately without regard for its impact on your career."

Stark stood, nearly at attention. "Yes ma'am, I understand ma'am. Thank you so much."

Cameron nodded, suddenly weary. As the door closed behind the young agent, Cameron stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Eventually she closed her eyes, and tried to ignore the image of Blair Powell naked, her legs entwined with the shadowy figure of Paula Stark.
 

"May I join you?"

"If you wish."

Blair did not miss the stiffness in Cameron's voice, nor the cold smoldering anger in her eyes. "I take it you know I had company last night."

"I am aware of it."

For some reason, Blair took no satisfaction in making it clear to her aloof security chief that Cameron was not irreplaceable, especially in her bed. In fact, she had been plagued by an unfamiliar uneasiness throughout a restless night. For the first time in her memory, she felt regret. Regret that the woman beside her meant nothing to her. Regret that the entire time she had made love to Paula Stark, she had wished for another's body beneath her lips, beneath her fingers. Regret that even as the young woman lay spent and vulnerable in her arms, she felt nothing for her. Regret that the woman she had taken to her bed had been cheated by that very fact.

Cam gritted her teeth, trying desperately to control her temper. She wasn't certain whom she was most angry with - Paula Stark for her lack of judgment, or Blair Powell- for her total lack of discretion in choosing her bed partners. Looking at the woman across from her, Cameron had to struggle not to imagine the soft sensuous lips stroking her own. She had felt the power of Blair's embrace, and she was finding it difficult to banish it from her memory.

Blair pushed back her chair and stood, her breakfast untouched before her. She stared down at Cam with something close to remorse in her eyes. Nevertheless, her voice was bitter. "If it makes any difference to your sense of ethics, it wasn't exactly her idea. And I'm done with her now. It won't happen again."

Without waiting for an answer, the President's daughter turned away abruptly. She didn't so much as glance in Paula Stark's direction.

Cameron sat for a moment, watching Blair cross the dining room in angry strides. She struggled for composure, knowing that her anger would only cloud her judgment and make it more difficult for her to do her job. Two of her agents moved quietly from the room to follow Blair at a discrete distance. Cameron was confident that they would be ready should the President's daughter decide to leave the lodge.

**********

Half an hour later, Cameron gathered her gear and stepped out into a glorious Colorado morning. The air was crisp, the sun a blazing white light that forced her to immediately pull on her ski goggles. She knew from communications that Blair was on the upper slopes, preparing to spend the morning on a long and challenging downhill trail. By the time Cameron reached the peak, Blair was pushing off for her second run down the mountainside. Cameron stepped into her traces, and started after her, staying just slightly behind Blair to give her plenty of room to maneuver over the slope. Cameron was content to follow, keeping her eyes on the woman ahead of her. She felt only a momentary flicker of surprise when a dark form hurdled from a stand of trees 20 feet away and headed directly for Blair Powell.

Fear was not an emotion that Cameron allowed herself. It merely slowed the reflexes, and clouded judgment. In the second it took her to reach for her gun, she saw Blair go down as the figure careened into her. For a brief instant Cameron was struck with a sense of deja vu that nearly made her dizzy. Her stomach clenched as panic threatened to engulf her. As quickly as the image of Janet falling, a blossom of red on her chest, glided into Cameron's mind like a familiar slide on a well- viewed screen, Cameron forced it away. The assailant had fallen from the force of his impact with Blair, and was struggling to rise in the snow.

Cam skidded to a stop at Blair's side, shedding her skis before she had even stopped moving. She threw herself over Blair's prone body, her gun trained on the figure not far away. With her other hand, she pulled her radio from her belt, screaming hoarsely, "Red alert, red alert!"

Even as she curled herself protectively around Blair's still form, four agents emerged from the trees on either side, guns drawn, shouting for the assailant to get down. Within seconds, they surrounded him. As soon as Cameron was certain that the immediate danger to Blair had passed, she switched radio frequencies to that of the communications center at the lodge, and requested urgent transport and a medivac unit to meet them on the slopes. She eased herself off Blair's body, holstering her gun and pulling off her gloves.

Blair lay on her back, eyes closed. Cameron quickly ascertained that her pulse with strong and steady, but she appeared to be unconscious. With hands that trembled only slightly, Cameron opened Blair's parka and slipped her hand inside, searching for evidence of a wound. It was entirely possible that the assailant had slipped a knife or ice pick into Blair's body during the collision. One part of her mind worked efficiently, by the book, while another part warred with the terror rising within.

Jesus, don't let her be hurt

Cameron slipped her hand under Blair's sweater, finding no evidence of blood. She slid her fingers over the tight abdomen and tried to check Blair's back without turning her.

"What are you doing," Blair whispered, her blue eyes unfocused.

Cameron look down, relief clearly evident in her face. "Just lie still. Everything is all right. You're safe."

"I've been wanting you to do this, but this wasn't exactly the place I had mind," Blair commented weakly, a smile flickering uncertainly across her face. She started to push herself up, and winced as a barrage of cannon fire began in the back of her head. She fell back limply. "What the hell happened?"

Cameron zipped up Blair's jacket and started to remove her own. She could see Blair was beginning to shiver. "I don't know yet," she said grimly. "How do you feel?" She spread her jacket over Blair's body.

Blair gingerly moved each arm and leg. Her vision was clearing, and other than a phenomenal headache, she seemed to be fine. "I'm all right."

"We'll have you off the ground in just a minute," Cameron said gently. She lifted her radio, and barked into it, "Where the hell is medivac?" Static was all she heard for a moment, and then Mac's voice.

"The helicopter was delayed because of cloud cover," he said. "We have an ambulance on its way and there should be snowmobiles on site in approximately two minutes."

Cameron didn't like it. It was sloppy work. They should have been informed that the helicopters were unavailable. Nevertheless, at the moment there was nothing she could do. "I copy that."

Blair reached for Cameron's arm, gripping her with surprising strength. "I don't want to go to a hospital. The media will be all over this. My father is in Southeast Asia, and there's no need for him to be disturbed."

Cameron had no intention of arguing with Blair. Even now, her team was taking the suspect downhill to the lodge. She would question him herself as soon as Blair was taken care of. She had to approach this as if it were an attempt on Blair's life. Because that was all she could assume it was. The time for respecting Blair's wishes was past. This was not something she could compromise about.

Blair watched Cameron's jaw tighten, and she knew there was no room for negotiation. "At least let me call him and tell him I'm all right, before this is all over the news."

Cameron nodded. "Of course."

**********

Six hours later, Cameron nodded to the agent seated outside Blair Powell's hospital room and gently pushed the door open. She stood for a moment, trying to ascertain in the dim light if Blair were awake.

"Come in."

Cameron approached the bed, and stood looking down at Blair's pale face. "Did I wake you?"

"No. I was just lying here plotting my escape."

Cam laughed with just a hint of sarcasm. "Why is it that I believe you?"

A faint smile flickered across Blair's full lips. For an instant, her eyes sparkled with a youthful joy that had not been present for many years. "Perhaps because you're starting to learn my tricks."

Cameron edged the chair close to the side of the bed and sat, leaning forward so that Blair could see her. Softly she said, "I doubt very much that I will ever recognize all of your tricks."

"You might," Blair whispered, "if you gave me the chance to teach you."

It was Cameron's turn to smile. She chose to ignore the remark, instinctively sensing Blair's vulnerability, and recognizing that this was not a time for them to struggle. She stared at Blair's hand, lying motionless on the thin hospital-issue covers. She remembered the grace with which that same hand had moved across the sketch pad, capturing her own likeness with startling perceptiveness. No one since her mother had been able to portray her so accurately. Without meaning to, Cameron gently covered Blair's slender fingers with her own. She had meant to reassure her, and found herself reassured instead.

For a brief moment on the mountainside, she had thought that Blair was injured. Her choking fear was much more than just her concern for the person she guarded. She could not bear the thought of Blair being harmed, and she dared not examine too closely the reasons why.

Cameron cleared her throat, trying to ignore the sudden tingling in her fingers as Blair intertwined her fingers with Cam's. "Your assailant was a 16 your old boy who decided he was going to ski downhill through the trees from an adjoining trail. He wasn't even supposed to be there, but somehow no one was watching that particular part of the course. He had no idea who you were, and in fact I still don't think he does."

"So I'm safe for the moment?" Blair asked with just a hint of bitterness.

Cam nodded. "We've managed to keep this very low profile, and I don't think there's going to be much publication about it in the media."

Blair sighed gratefully. "Thank you. I want to get out of here this afternoon and go back to the lodge."

"Why does that not surprise me either?" Cam said with resignation. "I've taken the liberty of checking with your physicians, and they told me that if your headache is okay, they'd be willing to discharge you."

"Good. I feel like I'm in a fish bowl in here."

Cameron stood, resisting the urge to brush the errant strands of blond hair off Blair's cheek. "I'll see to the arrangements."

Cameron was almost to the door before Blair spoke. "Thank you for protecting me this afternoon," she said softly. She still felt the unexpected comfort of Cameron's embrace as she had lain in Cam's arms in the snow.

Cameron gripped the handle so hard her fingers ached. For a brief moment, she felt again the sheer terror she had experienced as she watched Blair fall. She could not afford to feel that for her. She could not afford to feel anything for her. In a tone harsher than she intended, she said sharply, "I was only doing in my job, Ms. Powell."

Then she was gone, and Blair was alone once more.
 
 

"How's your head?" Cam asked as she slipped into the seat next to Blair.

"I'll live," Blair responded, strangely subdued. In fact, the slightest vertical movement of the aircraft produced a wave of nausea that threatened to overpower her considerable self-control. Fortunately, the skies were clear and the jet streaked toward New York City with very little turbulence. Otherwise, she was very much afraid she would embarrass herself.

It didn't escape Cam's notice that Blair's face was chalk white, and her normally crystal clear blue eyes clouded with pain. Cam inclined her head closer, although the other agents and Diane were 10 rows further forward, engaged in conversation or napping. She and Blair were quite alone. Nevertheless, Cam did not want their private conversation overheard. "You don't have to be a hero, you know. Why don't you take a couple of pain pills and try to rest."

Blair started to shake her head, and abruptly stopped when the slight movement caused her stomach to lurch. "Believe me, Commander, I am no hero. The problem is, the pain pills tend to make me sicker than the pain."

Cam laughed softly as she shifted in her seat and pushed the center arm rest up out of the way. She laid her left arm along the backs of the seats and offered Blair her shoulder. "Just try to close your eyes for the rest of the flight. It's probably the only thing that will do any good. Believe me, I've been in your position more than once. The only way to get through it is pills or sleep."

Blair knew instinctively that Cam's offer of comfort was prompted by sympathy, and no special feelings for her. Nevertheless, what she needed at that moment was precisely what Cameron offered. Simple human comfort. She allowed her body to relax against Cam's side, and rested her head in the curve of Cam's arm. She knew she wouldn't sleep, but perhaps if she closed her eyes the pain would lessen.

Cam gently stretched her legs out in front of her and settled back into the seat. In only a minute or two, she knew from the rhythmic motion of Blair's breathing that she had settled into sleep. The faint background drone of the engines and the warmth of Blair's body along her side lulled her into a sense of peacefulness that she had long forgotten. She stared out the window, and thought of nothing. For those few precious hours, Blair's presence was all she needed. As she dozed, she rested her cheek on the fragrant softness of Blair's hair.

**********

As the plane touched down, Cam and Blair awoke together. Neither of them moved. Cam's hand had drifted down from the seat and was curled gently along Blair's side, resting just beneath her breast. In her sleep, Blair had turned to thread her arm around Cam's waist. She lay with her head tucked beneath Cam's chin, resting in her arms. They held each other as if it had always been.

As the others in the cabin began to stand and stretch, Cam lifted her arm from around Blair's body, acutely aware of how much she did not want to let her go. "Ms. Powell, we need to depart."

With a sigh, Blair pushed herself upright and brushed her hands through her wild tresses. She noted with just a hint of surprise that her headache was gone. "Yes, of course we do."

She glanced at Cameron, startled to see a fleeting look that might have been regret cross her handsome face. Then, the professional impenetrable mask returned, and Cam simply smiled in agreement.

Cam left her then to move forward and speak to her people regarding the plans for transportation back to the townhouse. Diane worked her way down the aisle to Cam's vacant seat. "You two looked very cozy together," she remarked dryly.

"Leave it alone, Diane," Blair said quietly.

Diane bit back the retort she had been about to make. There was something in her old friend's voice that warned her off. In fact, they had looked very good together. Too good together. They looked as if they had held each other a thousand times before. Diane simply shook her head and left unspoken her words of caution. Something told her that Blair was beyond hearing.

**********

Cameron sat her paper cup of coffee down on the worktable and glanced over at Mac with a quizzical lift of her eyebrow. "Is she still upstairs?"

"Yup, three days straight," Mac said with a shake of his head.

Cameron wasn't sure what to make of it, but she knew she didn't like it. Ever since they had touched down at JFK, Blair had not been herself. She had sent word that she intended to work in her studio, and would not require daily meetings with Cameron. Cam had not protested, feeling that to do so would be a further invasion of Blair's privacy. Nevertheless, the atmosphere in the command center resembled the calm before the storm. All of them expected Blair to burst forth from her isolation at any moment, and lead them once again on a merry chase. For her part, Cam almost wished she would. There was something unnerving about the sudden change in Blair's behavior.

Better the enemy I know, Cam muttered to herself. She picked up her coffee and headed to her small glass enclosed office. Mac looked after her, thinking that Blair Powell wasn't the only one who was not acting like themselves.

Things continued much the same for another week. The agents came and went, whiling away the hours of their shift reading, talking in hushed tones, and generally wondering when the bomb would drop. Cam spent as little time as possible within the confines of the command center. She jogged, she worked out, she read in her apartment. She left strict orders to be called the moment Blair gave any indication that she was preparing to leave the building. On the night of the eighth day, the call finally came.

"She just got into a cab and is headed downtown," Mac informed her.

"Shit," Cam cursed. "How did you let that happen?"

Mac's discomfort was nearly palpable, even over the phone. "There wasn't anything we could do short of physically stopping her. She just walked out of the building, stepped into the street, and flagged a checkered down. We were lucky to get the car out fast enough to follow her."

Cam sighed slightly in relief. "Then you have her in sight?"

"Roger that. Hold on a second--"

Cam paced the confines of her living room, the cellular phone gripped tightly in her hand. Although they had had no further contact from whoever had left the note outside Blair's door, she was worried that they weren't the only ones watching the President's daughter. Anytime Blair was without an escort, Cam was fearful for her safety.

"She just went into a bar on Houston," Mac informed her.

"Name and address?" Cam asked tersely.

"Rendezvous," Mac stated. After a second, he gave her the address as well.

"I'm on my way."

Less than 15 minutes later, Cam was in the bar, scanning the already crowded dance floor and surrounding tables for Blair. It was approaching midnight on a Saturday night, and the room was packed. The lighting was dim and the air thick with smoke, making it difficult for her to see across the room. She began threading her way through the crowd at the perimeter of the room, guessing that Blair would be in the shadows somewhere. Sure enough, she finally saw her talking to a young woman with impressive tattoos encircling both upper arms.

The woman with Blair was obviously a serious body builder, and her tight white tank top was clearly meant to display her hard-earned physique. She wore low-cut button fly jeans that showed off her muscular thighs to full advantage. At the moment, her hand was stroking the length of the Blair's bare arm, drawing closer to Blair's breast with each movement. Cam gritted her teeth, and tried to ignore the seduction in progress. She watched as Blair pressed closer to the other woman, remembering the moment when Blair had moved against her like that, claiming her insistently with a kiss. Cam's body immediately stirred to the memory, her clitoris hardening almost instantly.

Jesus Christ, what the hell is the matter with you? Cameron forced herself to ignore the throbbing in her belly. Nevertheless, she found herself averting her gaze when Blair cupped the woman's face in her hand and licked slowly along the edge of her jaw, finally thrusting her tongue between her lips. That was the moment when Cam finally admitted to herself that she couldn't do what she had come there to do. Anger surged through her as she spoke harshly into her collar microphone.

"I want the first team in here now to take over this surveillance." She abruptly turned her back as the two women began to kiss ferociously, their hands roaming over each other's bodies with abandon. As soon as she saw her people enter the bar, she pushed her way through the crowd and out onto the street. She crossed quickly to her car and radioed headquarters.

"Mac, I want you to take over for me for the next twelve hours. If there's an emergency, page me. Otherwise, I'm unavailable."

She didn't wait for his reply but drove directly to JFK airport. As she waited in a terminal for her flight, she dialed a familiar number in Washington D.C., and arranged for the only hope she had of driving Blair from her consciousness.
 

"Ah, god – I can’t," Cam gasped hoarsely, "I’m sorry – I just – can’t."

The blonde raised her head, gazing up the long expanse of Cam’s torso. "That’s not what your body is saying." She rested her cheek against Cam’s thigh, one hand softly stroking between Cam’s legs. "Besides, I'm not done yet."

Cam gently insinuated her fingers into the hair at the back of her visitor's neck. She tugged softly. "Come up and lie beside me," she whispered.

Claire slipped from between Cam's legs and moved up to recline against Cam's body, resting her head on Cam's shoulder. Her hand lay lightly on Cam's belly.

Cam shifted slightly, brushing a kiss across Claire's forehead. "Let me make love you," she said softly. It was the first time she had ever suggested it.

"That's not what this is about. I don't need you to do that."

"I need to," Cam insisted. "After all this time, I want to give you something back."

Claire nodded, hearing what Cam wasn't saying. She knew that Cam wanted more than to thank her. Cam wanted to say goodbye. Over the years, there had been many goodbyes. This was one that was going to be hard.

"Just hold me," Claire requested. "That's all I need."

Cam was weary, too weary to protest. She cradled the other woman closer, closed her eyes, and tried to empty her mind. She tried not to think about her anger and confusion every time she imagined Blair making love to yet another stranger. She tried to ignore what she knew very well was jealousy. She tried to ignore the simple fact that she wanted it to be her that Blair was caressing.

Claire ran her fingers lightly over Cam's flushed skin, tracing the outline of her ribs and hip, stroking the soft curve of the underside of her breasts, smoothing the flat of her hand over the taut muscles of her stomach. Slowly, Cam relaxed under her touch.

Eventually, Cam's thoughts were eclipsed by an awareness of her body’s response to Claire's attention. Her skin began to tingle, her leg muscles tightened, and her hips began to rock slightly as her clitoris once again swelled in anticipation. This time, her urgency was gone, and she allowed herself the luxury of simply accepting the pleasure. Her mind collapsed into a single point of sensation, centered within the pulsating pressure between her legs. She groaned, and lifted her pelvis higher, silently urging Claire's hand lower. Her breath escaped on a sigh as two fingers enclosed the shaft of her clitoris, milking it slowly and firmly from the base to the tip. She felt wetness spread along the inside of her thighs, and when one soft stroke brushed the warm moisture over the exposed tip of her clitoris, she moaned again.

"God, that makes me want to come," she murmured breathlessly.

Clara smiled faintly, her fingers slipping inside, then back out and upward, a steady rhythm that matched Cam's unconscious movements. She sensed the building pressure, and felt the tender tissues beneath her fingertips thicken even more, swelling to the point of explosion.

Cam gripped the sheets convulsively in her left hand, her right arm holding Claire tightly. She turned her face into the sweet comfort of Claire's hair, and allowed her body to surrender to the inevitable. As her stomach clenched and a hoarse cry was wrenched from her depths, Blair Powell's face flickered across the inner surface of her eyelids.

**********

300 miles away, Blair stood in a small apartment on the fourth floor of a building in Greenwich Village. She casually studied the clothes hanging on a rack that had been pushed into the corner of a small bedroom, seeming to have forgotten the woman who had brought her there.

"Nice collection of ties you have here," Blair commented as she fingered the lengths of silk and cotton draped over a hanger at the end of the rack. Without looking at the other woman, she continued, "Let's see what kind of use we can put these to. Why don't you take your clothes off and lie face down on the bed."

The young butch stared at her in amazement. Clearly, Blair's shoulder length blonde hair, tight white T-shirt, full breasts and graceful carriage did not necessarily spell 'femme'. As much as she hated to relinquish her butch dominance, she was intrigued and more than a little excited by the commanding town in Blair's voice. Trying to maintain her façade of nonchalance, the dark-haired body builder removed her leather and denim, pulled off her briefs, and shed her boots and socks. Naked, and feeling more than a little uncertain, she lay face down on her own bed, welcoming the pillow that allowed her to hide her face.

Blair crossed to her side, and slipped a loop fashioned from one of the ties around the woman's right wrist. She ran the length of fabric over the mattress and around the bed frame, quickly following suit with the other wrist and both ankles. Once the woman was totally immobilized, she removed the pillow.

"I want you to be able to breathe. But keep your eyes closed."

Blair stepped back, lit several candles she had noticed on the windowsill, and placed them on the small bedside table. In the flickering candlelight, she allowed herself to study the woman's body. She was beautiful. Smooth tight skin; muscles rippling under the sweat-slick surface; thick lustrous hair just beginning to curl at the base of her neck. Her face in profile was sharply defined and arrogant even in repose. Altogether she was a fine specimen of young butch sexuality. Still, Blair struggled not to compare her form to the long lean lines of Cam's body. She did not want to remember the alluring maturity etched into Cam's elegant features, or the smoldering sensuality in her dark eyes, or the aching softness of her full lips. Blair had tried to eliminate the memory of Cam's arms around her with hours upon days of work in her secluded loft, and she had failed. The only way she could drive thoughts of Cam from her awareness was to fill her senses with the sight, and sound, and feel of another woman.

Still fully clothed, she climbed onto the bed and stretched out on top of the woman. She ran her fingers over the surface of the bound woman's arms, her lips and tongue tasting the salt at the base of her neck, sucking her ear lobe into her mouth. Dimly, she heard a groan as she captured the soft skin along the jaw between her teeth, tugging lightly, quickly erasing the pinpoints of pain with a kiss. Blair's captive struggled to turn her face, desperately seeking Blair's lips with her own. Blair ignored her, sitting up slightly so that she could trace the muscles of the other woman's shoulders and back and flanks, ending at her well-formed buttocks. Blair moved down the bed, her fingers kneading the thick gluteal muscles, pushing and separating them, exposing the cleft between them to her view. She traced the puckered muscle with a fingertip.

"Oh please," the young stranger moaned, an edge of fear in her voice.

"Quiet," Blair said softly. "I won't hurt you."

She knelt between the strong quivering thighs, lowering her face until she could trace the delicate tissues with her tongue. The tight sphincter spasmed as she pressed inward, her lips softly stroking the outer rim. She sucked lightly, then ran her tongue deeper into the cleft, tasting for the first time the thick heady juices of her young lover's desire. She ran her tongue lightly over the swollen lips, tracing the folds and furrows, circling the thickening clitoris, moving tantalizingly from one spot to the next.

"If --oh god, you make me want to come -- so badly," gasped the young woman.

"Soon," Blair murmured. She was lost in the sensations-- the smell, the incredible softness, the welcoming heat and enticing juices. This was woman, any woman, every woman. As she pressed her face deeper, immersing herself, she felt her lover's impending orgasm begin to build. Blair stretched out full-length on the bed, her arms encircling the woman's waist, her lips and tongue frantically stroking and caressing the engorged tissues. As the body beneath her convulsed, amidst sobs and cries and choked moans, Blair squeezed her eyes tightly closed, wanting to know only this incredible moment of intense connection. Even with the woman climaxing in her mouth, Blair couldn't help but wish that it was Cameron Roberts surrendering to her touch.

**********

Cameron rolled over and fumbled for the phone on the bedside table. The digital clock read 4:45. She was disoriented as to where she was and exactly what time it was. The bed beside her was empty, but there was a lingering warmth that suggested it had recently been occupied. As the phone rang insistently, her eyes adjusted to the dark and she recognized her own bedroom in Washington D.C. As her hand lifted the receiver, her mind registered her recent flight from New York and her frantic attempts to forget Blair Powell in the embrace of another woman.

"Roberts," she growled, trying to ignore her unsettling thoughts.

"It's Mac, Commander. I'm sorry to disturb you, but I thought you would want to know--"

Cameron sat up abruptly in bed, her mind crystal clear, but her heart pounding. "Is it Egret? Is she secure?"

"Yes ma'am," Mac hurried to assure her. "We have her under constant surveillance, and we know exactly where she is. But we did receive another contact from Lover Boy."

That was the name the security team had given the UNSUB who had left the note at Blair's door.

"What is it?" Cam queried as she swung out of bed and began searching the room for her clothing. She noticed a folded sheet of note paper on her dressing table, and slipped it into the pocket of her trousers.

"Photographs," Mac said grimly. "There's a very good close-up of Egret leaving the apartment building yesterday afternoon."

"Son of a bitch. That means he's been watching the building, from somewhere close by. How did you get them?" Cam was hastily buttoning her shirt and threading a narrow leather belt through the loops of her pants. She had found one shoe and was peering under the bed for the other.

"Stark noticed a manila folder propped up against the mailboxes in the lobby. It had Egret's name on it."

Cam stopped abruptly in the middle of the floor, a shoe in one hand, her portable phone in the other. She felt a brief thrill of elation. "Then we've got him! There are video cameras all over that lobby as well as the entrance. We must have an image of him. I want all of the tapes brought up to the command center for review. Also, run a check on all the license plates of cars parked around the Park – then call the cab companies for recent fares to Egret's block. I'll catch the next commuter flight. Assemble the entire team, day and night shifts, at 0700."

"Yes ma'am," Mac snapped.

"And Mac," Cameron continued in a quieter voice. "Get Egret back to her apartment."

There was a beat of silence over the phone line. Mac cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully. He wasn't sure why, but he felt uncomfortable delivering the next information. "Uh, Commander--at the moment, Egret is with an unidentified female, who almost certainly does not know Egret's identity. If we roust her, there is no way we'll be able to guarantee silence regarding her identity."

Cameron flashed back to the young woman Blair had been fondling in the bar. Of course Blair would have gone home with her. And why not? She was just the kind of conquest Blair would thrill to.

"Then I want her in a car the minute she steps out onto the sidewalk. And Mac--if anyone loses her, it's their job."

"I guarantee I will have her back here ASAP." As he hung up the phone, he said a fervent prayer that he could deliver on his promise.
 

At 06:59, Cam walked into the command center and strode to the head of the table where the other agents were gathered. Despite her lack of sleep, she looked focused and intent. Without preamble, she said, "Let me hear the analysis on the photograph."

Jeremy Finch, a short, mildly overweight, bespectacled agent cleared his throat. He was the resident nerd, the computer genius and technical wizard. "We've analyzed the potential elevation and angle of view by extrapolating from the available shadows and the known time of day. Basically, the photograph was taken from one of the buildings facing Egret's across Gramercy Park." He looked down at the tabletop uncomfortably.

"That leaves us with a lot of potential sites, Agent Finch." Cameron stared at him, biting back another sarcastic remark. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't manufacture evidence.

Finch nodded almost miserably. Like every other agent in the room, he had come to value his position on this team, and felt a sense of loyalty to his intense, demanding Commander. "Yes ma'am, I know that. What it does tell us is that the shooter has a fixed location, rather than a vehicle. Therefore, there is a better chance of finding him, since he may be relatively stationary."

Cameron nodded. "You're right. We need to get a list of every occupant of every building on each side of the Square, not just the street directly across from this building. You'll need to check realtors, building managers, and also any corporations which lease apartments for use by employees. It's possible that this UNSUB is only here intermittently when business demands it."

"We have people assigned to begin the reconnaissance at the opening of business hours," Mac interjected.

They spent a few moments reviewing other methods of narrowing down the list of potential perpetrators who might have access to the surrounding buildings. Finally, Cameron looked around the table, meeting the eyes of each of her agents.

"I'm going to have to report this to the White House. At this point, we must assume that Blair Powell is in imminent danger of either an assassination or abduction attempt. I'm going to recommend that she be secluded for the time being until we can carry out our investigation. It is possible that this investigation will be removed from our jurisdiction--" she held up her hand for silence as the agents shifted in their seats and murmured in protest.

"I know how you feel, and I think that we are the best people to protect her as well as to get to the bottom of this. But situations like this often become political, and it's possible we will have nothing to say about it. If it comes to that, I expect total cooperation with whoever is running the investigation. Remember, the bottom line is Egret's safety. There is no room for ego or personal gain where she is concerned."

Cameron stared, knowing she had everyone's attention. "As soon as Ms. Powell arrives home, inform me. I'll meet with her and let her know the situation. That's all."

Cameron walked through the command center to the elevators and left the building without speaking to anyone. She crossed the square to her own apartment and shed her clothes immediately upon entering. She went to the bathroom and into the shower. She turned the cold water on full and let it blast the fatigue from her body and her mind. She was furious. Furious that someone dare threaten Blair Powell for no other reason than the position she represented. She was furious at herself for allowing her feelings for Blair to interfere with her duty. She was furious that the thought of any harm coming to Blair terrified her.

When the phone rang two hours later informing her that Blair had returned to her penthouse apartment, she was seated in front of her large bay windows, dressed in a starched white shirt, black silk trousers, and a charcoal gray silk jacket. She had been waiting for the call, her mind uncommonly still. She felt sure of herself for the first time in weeks.

**********

"What's the emergency?" Blair asked more abruptly than she had intended. She stood across the room from Cam, having barely gotten out of the shower when she had been informed that her security chief was on her way up. "This isn't a very good time. Can't we do this later?"

She had not seen Cameron in the ten days since they had returned from the ski resort. She had worked feverishly, spending hours applying paint to canvas -- sweeping abstract vistas of anger and longing and frustrated desire. When finally her emotions had run dry, she looked up from her easel and felt the walls of her loft closing in on her. Cameron's unbidden image still haunted her. The comfort of Cam's embrace on the airplane had been harder to forget than the sexual desire she had felt previously. Lust was something she could control, ignoring it if necessary. What she felt for Cameron Roberts was something she hadn't experienced since she had been innocent enough to believe in love. More than anything else, it frightened her.

She thought her normally imperturbable security chief looked tense, and Cam's eyes showed a hint of shadow that spoke of fatigue. Blair's stomach tightened.

"What is it?" she asked quietly.

"There's been further contact from the stalker," Cam said flatly. "A photograph was left -- a photograph that makes it clear that he's been watching you. It may be nothing more than his way of letting us know that he's around – empty posturing. But it may also be an indication that he's escalating. I have to assume that to be true."

Blair took a deep breath. "What do you intend to do about it?"

"I thought it only right to inform you first that I am flying to Washington later this morning to conference with the Chief of Staff and my bosses. I would anticipate that a task force will be formed to investigate and apprehend this individual."

Blair said nothing, turning to look out her windows into the park below. She thought she knew how a caged animal felt. "What will that mean for me?"

Cameron saw the rigid set of her back, and heard the slight tremor in Blair's voice which she tried to hide. For an instant, Cam wanted to take Blair into her arms and comfort her. Instead, she forced herself to say, "I would imagine you'll be moved out of the city until he's apprehended."

Blair spun around, her blue eyes nearly purple with fury. "You mean they'll close me up in some compound with guards 24 hours a day, as if my life were so insignificant I could walk away and leave everything behind."

"No! As if your life were too important to risk for single moment!"

"Bullshit!" Blair spat. "The only thing you people care about is protecting the reputation of the United States government and the people who run it."

Blair turned on her heel and stalked to the opposite side of the room, stepping behind a half-wall partition that enclosed her sleeping area. After a moment, Cameron followed. Blair was hastily throwing clothes into a suitcase.

"Exactly what do you think you're doing?" Cameron said, a deadly seriousness in her tone.

Blair didn't bother to look up. She threw jeans and underwear into the bag, searching on the dresser for her wallet and keys.

"I'm getting out of here. I wouldn't suggest you try to stop me. I don't think my father would be pleased if I were man-handled by one of his Secret Service agents." Then she reached for her bag and was stunned when Cameron grasped her forcibly by the shoulders, stopping her in her tracks.

"You listen to me! I don't give a fuck what your father thinks! I don't even give a fuck what you think! You're not leaving this apartment."

For a brief second, Cameron became every person who had ever conspired to keep Blair a captive in a life she had never chosen. A life she had been forced to live by virtue of her father's ambition. She swung her hand at Cameron's face, lashing out not at the woman who had done nothing more than attempt to protect her, but at the faceless many who had carried out their orders despite her wishes.

Cameron intercepted the blow with her left arm, angry not at Blair for attempting to strike her, but at Blair's stubborn refusal to accept that she was in danger. Cameron's fear surfaced on a wave of uncontrollable desire. She pulled Blair into her arms and covered Blair's lips with her own. She kissed her roughly, her hands pinning Blair's arms to her sides as she pressed her body hard against Blair's. For a moment Blair was too stunned to react, but there was never an instant of resistance. When she felt Cameron's mouth on hers, she kissed her back, her tongue pressing urgently to join Cameron's, her arms clutching Cameron's waist, her legs straddling Cameron's thigh tightly.

Cam's breath rasped in her chest as reason threatened to desert her. She wanted Blair so badly, and her body was racing beyond her control. She groaned, moving her head enough to bury her face against Blair's neck. Blair arched her pelvis into Cam and tilted her head back, exposing her neck as if for sacrifice.

"Oh oh god, Cameron god please -- touch me," she managed to gasp.

The sound of Blair's voice sliced through Cam's consciousness, paralyzing her as awareness crashed upon her.

My god, what am I doing!

Cam halted her feverish caresses, but did not let go of the woman in her arms. Instead, she cradled her closer, pressing her lips to Blair's ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forgive me," Cam whispered urgently, her body shuddering with arousal.

"No!" Blair choked. "Don't stop. God, don't stop."

"I have to," Cameron murmured in anguish. "I have to." She couldn't do this, not again. She couldn't feel this much, she couldn't want this much, she couldn't be this vulnerable. She had not touched another woman with passion since the morning she had last made love to Janet. Six hours later she had held her lover as she lay dying. She had vowed never to feel the longing, nor the loss, again.

Blair pushed away from her unsteadily, running her trembling hands through her hair. Her eyes were bruised, from passion and from the pain of Cam's rejection.

"No, of course you can't. It's not in your job description, is it, Commander? You can't feel anything for me because it would interfere with your duty. Isn't that right?"

Cam willed her voice to be steady. "When I meet with the others in Washington later today, I'm going to resign from this position. Whatever you may think of me, I will not jeopardize your safety by remaining. I can't do my duty, simply because I can't think of you as just another assignment."

Cam turned to leave.

"Wait!" Blair called.

Something nearly helpless in her voice caused Cam to stop.

"I have to attend the opening of the new children's wing at the city hospital this afternoon at three. Can't this wait until after that? It's been arranged for months, and there are children who might not – be there - later."

Cam nodded slowly. "I'll leave for Washington right after that."

**********

At two thirty Cam stood outside Blair’s door, dressed much the same as she had been that morning. She had changed shirts, substituting a pale gray silk for the white. Blair opened her apartment door, her eyes meeting Cam’s.

"Will you come in with me?" Blair asked in an unusual display of vulnerability.

"Every step," Cam said quietly.

Blair wore a simple black sheath, a string of gray pearls at her neck. Her low heels brought her to exactly Cam’s height. Together they were a striking couple. As Blair stepped to Cam’s side, Cam touched her hand softly.

"It will be all right."

Three other agents joined them as they exited the elevator and moved toward the lobby doors. Mac had the limo waiting at the curb, the rear door open. The bright afternoon sunlight outside the large glass doors cast a blinding glare directly into their faces. Stark and Johnson exited first, followed by Cam and another agent - Blair between them. Automatically, Cam looked up, squinting into the sun, scanning the buildings across the small square. She sensed rather than saw movement flickering somewhere in the haze that silhouetted the ornate cornices along the rooftops.

Cameron Roberts' instincts were her guiding force – the one thing in her life she neither questioned nor doubted. She stepped quickly in front of Blair, pushing her backwards into the shelter of the entrance. Blair looked more confused than frightened.

Cam must have tripped, because the next thing she knew, she was kneeling on the sidewalk, trying to catch her breath. A cacophony of cries filled her head as agents screamed into their mikes.

Code red, code red. …Oh fuckfuckfuck!….

"Get her inside," Cam ordered, but her voice came out a whisper on a plume of red mist. She had her gun in her right hand, but it was very difficult to raise her arm. She turned her head with effort, her vision oddly blurred.

Blair was surrounded by secret service agents who were half carrying her back into the building. Blair appeared to be struggling, screaming something, her hand outstretched toward Cam.

She’s safe

Cam’s mind was quite clear, and she relaxed, accepting the strange lassitude that suffused her. She rolled slowly onto her back, opening her hand, letting her gun rest gently on the sidewalk. She stared up into the bluest sky she could ever recall, then peacefully closed her eyes as her heart stopped beating.
 

Someone far away screamed her name, an agonized, animal scream of pain. Then – nothing.
 

"We need another line here ... Hang more fluid … Son of a bitch! … I can't get a blood pressure ... Where the fuck is the O neg... Push the intracardiac epi again... Here we go-- crack her chest ... Anything? ... I've got a rhythm... Shit, still no pulse ... Keep up the compression ... Nothing ... Pump more blood ... Come on, come on … Normal sinus rhythm... Oh, man – tell them to move it …"
 

Cam had no memory for the trip, or the frantic 40 minutes in the emergency room before she was transported to the operating room. For the first few days, she was kept sedated in the intensive care unit, a tube in her trachea delivering oxygen, larger tubes in her chest removing blood and tissue fluids. A machine breathed for her; she could neither move nor talk. Occasionally some stimulus would penetrate her consciousness, and she would register some small sensation - sound, a light, someone touching her. Always, there would be a soft voice, murmuring words of consolation that had no meaning, but were strangely soothing. Pain was a distant thunder, rolling slowly through the landscape of her awareness, ever present.

"Hurts..."

"I know, darling, I know ... Can't you give her something, for god's sake!"

"Cameron, you're going to be all right. Hold on… please. I need you to live."

The voice was so familiar, yet the face so elusive. Once, Cam opened her eyes and was certain that the tear-stained face bending near her own was Blair's. But that couldn't be right, could it? The next time she opened her eyes, she was lucid enough to realize it was only a nurse.

Cam listened to snippets of conversation, desperately trying to make sense of what was happening to her. Unfortunately, there were huge gaps in her consciousness, destroying any sense of reality.

A man's voice, "Let me drive you home. You need to get some rest."

"No. Not yet. They said another 24 hours before they were sure..."

"Please, it won't help..." The man again, insistent, but gentle.

"It helps me."

Cam was aware of people touching her. Turning her, covering her, bathing her. The single touch that anchored her the most, however, was a gentle hand that seemed to enclose hers for hours on end. Whenever she could summon the will, Cam squeezed the fingers clasping hers, and the voice would come again, murmuring tender words of love and encouragement in her ear.

"Who.. are..."

"It's all right, love, don't try to talk now."

"Stay .."

"I will."

******

Cameron lay quietly, eyes closed, taking stock of her situation. Most of the tubes she had been dimly aware of the last few days were gone. The noise level around her had also decreased, and she sensed that she wasn't in the intensive care unit anymore. A hand slowly stroked her hair. She opened her eyes and focused on the woman beside her. She was surprised at how bright the sunlight filtering through the window appeared.

"Hello darling."

Cameron reached for the fingers softly brushing her cheek. She was amazed, and not a little frightened, at how difficult a task that was. She hoped she didn't looked as weak as she felt. "Hello, mother."

Her memories converged all at once, and panic ripped through her.

"Blair Powell! Is she all right? Was she hurt?"

She actually tried to sit up, and found that she was unable to raise her shoulders more than a fraction of an inch. The pain she had been living with for days suddenly coalesced into a bright hot lance of fire searing through her chest. "Oh oh--," she gasped involuntarily, collapsing against the pillows.

"Lie still, Cameron," her mother admonished firmly. "Ms. Powell is fine. She wasn't injured. In fact, you were the only one--" she hesitated for a moment, steadying her voice. "You were the only one who was shot."

Cam closed her eyes briefly, sapped by the effort to sit up. Despite her fatigue, she felt peaceful and content. Sleep was coming quickly, but she needed to know, "Who is in charge? Who is looking after her?"

"I believe it's a gentleman named Macintosh, or something like that."

Cam nodded faintly, reassured. Mac would not let anything happened to Blair. Secure in that thought, she slept and healed.

**********

Marcea Cassells looked down at her sleeping child. She thought of the other young woman who had spent so many hours beside this bed, holding her daughter's hand, stroking her hair, whispering to her in low loving tones. She knew whatever battles her daughter had been waging, those long dark hours had been made lighter by this woman's presence.

Marcea wondered if either of them understood the depth of their connection, which perhaps could only be appreciated by someone standing outside the circle of their intimacy. She knew her daughter's sense of duty well enough to know that Cameron would not have allowed anything to transpire between them. It was just as clear to her that despite their best intentions, something very significant had.

Marcea walked down the hall to the pay phone, and held the slip of paper in her hand as she punched in the numbers that had been written there for her.

"This is Marcea Cassells," she began when a male voice answered. She was told to wait a moment, and then a woman spoke anxiously into the phone.

"Yes? Is she--"

"She's awake. Weak, but otherwise she seems to be quite all right."

A moment of silence, then a voice that shook slightly. "Thank you so much for calling me."

Marcea hesitated a second, then continued, "She asked about you immediately."

Blair took a sharp breath. God how I wanted to be there when Cameron awoke When it was clear that the Secret Service agent was out of danger, the White House and Secret Service had put unbearable pressure upon her to be sequestered in a safe house until the investigation could be carried out. She hadn't wanted to leave Cam's side, but she could not fight everyone alone. Even Mac had gently told her that Cameron would have wished for her to go. It was when he reminded her that Cameron had nearly died trying to keep her safe, that Blair finally relented. Nevertheless, leaving Cameron had been the hardest thing she had ever done. She felt like she was leaving her heart behind.

"Could you tell her--tell her--I--," Blair halted in confusion. Cameron would never believe her.

"I think you'll have to tell her that yourself, when the time is right," Marcea said gently.

"Yes, of course," Blair said swiftly, her emotions now firmly under control. She thanked Cameron's mother, and hung up the phone. She turned away, knowing that there would never be a time when she could share with Cameron what was in her heart.
 

"How did she take it?" Mac asked.

Assistant Director Stewart Carlisle studied Mac carefully, wondering how much he could disclose. What he saw was a look of genuine concern and something more, something that looked a lot like sympathy.

"She took it well-- she didn't argue, or put up a fight."

"Uh oh," Mac said hollowly.

"Yeah. Worries me too." Stewart didn't know what to make of the look on Cameron Roberts' face when he informed her that she would not be returning to the security detail assigned to Blair Powell when she had recovered. Her face had been a careful blank, but he thought he saw something dark pass through her eyes.

"Did the doctors say I wouldn't recover fully?" she had asked at length.

Carlisle had looked out the window, searching for words, wishing he had a different answer. He didn't understand it, but it wasn't his call. Cameron Roberts was a hero throughout the agency, and had been publicly commended by the President. She had done, without hesitation, what each of them had secretly asked themselves if they could do. She had been willing to die in the line of duty. They didn't come any better than her. What he had to say didn't make any sense.

"The doctors said you’ll be fine. Blair Powell requested that you be removed from the position."

Cameron's right hand gripped the covers tightly, but otherwise she lay without moving. "I see," she said in a voice devoid of emotion. She had been hoping – What you were hoping doesn't matter anymore. You were wrong.

He had tried to make light of the situation, assuring her that once she had made a full recovery she could have her pick of assignments. Hell, he reminded her, after what you did, you could sit out your days until your pension on a desert island for all anyone would care. She had let him go on, but he knew that she did not hear him. He felt like a fraud, but he did what he had to do. When he left the room, Cameron was staring at some distant point, her face and body so still he could barely see her breathing.

"Yeah, well, she'll be fine. She always is," Carlisle said sadly.

Mac wasn't nearly so sure.

**********

Nine months later, she was fully recovered, and back at work. It was almost as if the last year had never happened. She finished rehab, she completed her mandatory psychiatric counseling, and she sat in front of Stewart Carlisle discussing her newest assignment. She had been reassigned to the investigative division, where her true instincts and abilities lay.

It was deja vu, but everything was different, including her. She was more alone than ever. Once, as she was sorting through her things after being released from the hospital, she came across the note Claire had left that night a lifetime ago.

She brought her attention back to what Carlisle was saying. He briefed her on the counterfeiting/money laundering operation her team would be investigating. She told him she had no problem with any of the agents assigned to her. Her field exposure would be limited, although she was perfectly fit for the duty. When she pointed this out, Stewart made it clear that he did not want her taking any risks.

"Being shot twice in the line of duty is enough for any agent," he commented dryly. "Despite the fact that you're a hero, you'll give us a bad name."

"Heaven forbid," Cam said with a perfectly straight face.

"Well, just keep your ass out of the line of fire," Stewart said roughly. He looked to the papers on his desk, indicating that their obligatory meeting was over. He was surprised when she spoke.

"How is Mac handling the other detail?" she said quietly.

He was almost successful in hiding his surprise. This was the first time she had referred in any way to her previous experiences. He contemplated issues of security for a few seconds, and then thought, What the hell, she deserves an answer.

"No major security breaches, if that's what you mean. He's very circumspect with his reports, but I gather that the subject is still throwing up roadblocks whenever possible." He regarded her intently for moment. "As a matter of fact, I can use a straight briefing about what's going on up there. You're not due to report to this new post for a week or so. How about dropping in on Mac and getting the the real story?"

Cam stiffened, her displeasure clear. "I'm not going to spy on another agent. Mac is perfectly capable, and I'm sure if you speak with him, he'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"I'm not doubting Mac's ability. But I'm no fool either. I know damn well that he is soft-peddling the details of the reports to protect Blair Powell. Remember, the guy who tried to kill her is still out there, and we couldn't keep her secluded forever. She is still in real and imminent danger. Any information can only help us. If you don't want talk to Mac, talk to her."

Cameron stood abruptly. "No way." She turned and strode purposely toward the door.

"Roberts," he said in that soft deadly tone that meant he was completely serious. "Don't make me pull rank. Just find a way to do it that you can live with. Five days. Then I'll expect to hear from you."

She didn't answer. She didn't trust her voice not to tremble.
 

As she drove through the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, Cam reminded herself that she was in New York City for the sole purpose of attending the opening of her mother's gallery exhibition. It was the first East Coast showing in a number of years, and Cam knew it would please her mother for her to be there. She had absolutely no intention of visiting the command center, and certainly no desire to see Blair Powell. She reminded herself of this every few minutes, whenever she found her mind drifting to the images that she thought she had successfully eradicated. Images of Blair, in a smoky bar, her hair wild and her hunger unleashed; Blair, elegant and cool on the dais of the parade route; Blair, vulnerable and weary in the hospital after the ski accident. Blair's memory triggered a kaleidoscope of wistful wanting and explosive sexual desire. Cam forced her concentration back to the congested city traffic, grateful for something, anything, to distract her from the aching need that was never far from the surface of her consciousness.

She allowed the attendant at the Plaza to valet park her car, and gave the bellman her luggage to bring up to her penthouse suite. She was not traveling on company time, and felt no need to account for her expenditures. In fact, she felt unaccountable to anyone for the first time in her adult memory. She was between assignments, and despite Stewart Carlisle's edict, she had no intention of performing any duty for the United States of America for the next seven days.

She signed in, and as soon as she was alone in her suite, she showered off the drive’s dust and grit. She had an hour and a half until the evening opening of her mother's show. She stood naked before the bathroom mirror, trying to tame her unruly waves into position.

She surveyed her image unemotionally. Her hair was still short and sleek, with new touches of gray at the temples. Despite the lengthy convalescence, with vigorous physical therapy and workouts, she had maintained her muscle mass and strength. She was sinewy and taut. The only visible difference were the scars on her torso from the surgical incisions and the multiple tubes that had been necessary to reinflate her lungs. She looked at herself dispassionately, and wondered for a moment how she would appear to another. She dismissed the thought quickly. It was a moot point.

She went about the process of dressing absent-mindedly. She did not glance at her reflection again, knowing that the black silk jacket and trousers were perfectly tailored for her, that her loafers were perfectly shined, and that the French cuffs of her white starched shirt were exactly the right length. When the driver let her out in front of the address she had given him, she knew that she was precisely on time. Everything in her life was exactly as it should be - predictable, ordered, and under control.

**********

The room was already full when Cam entered, as she expected it would be. The crowd overflowed the first level, up the stairs to the second floor of the gallery, a noisy mass of murmuring critics, artists, and members of the press. Cam accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter, and began a slow tour of the area, stopping to study each new canvas. It had been a long time since she had seen so many of her mother's works in one place, and she had not seen any of her most recent works. The hallmark characteristics of her mother style were clearly evident, but Cam was surprised to find that the paintings seemed calmer at their core, with less of the pain that had been so evident in the early years following her father's death.

Eventually, Cam heard her mother's distinctive voice, and gravitated toward it. Her mother was tall like herself, and Cam could see her face despite the crowd of people around her. Marcea appeared relaxed, although something in her eyes spoke of exhilaration. Cam knew it was because she was talking about the thing she loved most in life, her art.

When she had almost reached the group, Cam stopped short, her heart pounding. Blair was standing next to her mother. It was as if someone had struck her, driving the breath from her body. For one moment, her mind was numb. Then every sensation she had been trying to suppress regarding Blair Powell returned. Her pulse raced, her blood pounded, and her hands began to tremble. Blair looked up and their eyes met. Blair's lips parted in surprise, and her blue eyes widened. A faint blush stole across her cheeks. She took an involuntary stepped forward, as if intending to rush toward Cam, then halted uncertainly. Moments passed.

Surprisingly, Blair regained her composure first. She threaded her way through the intervening crowd until she stood in front of Cam. She tilted her head and smiled wistfully. "How are you, Commander?" She asked quietly.

Cam finally found her voice, and answered with as much control as she could muster. "I'm fine, Ms Powell."

Blair studied her carefully. Physically, she did look fine. As striking as ever. But there was a strange flatness in her gaze, and an emptiness in her voice, as if something vital were missing.

Instinctively, Blair touched her arm. She was shocked to feel her tremble. "Are you sure?" she asked again, unable to hide her anxiety.

Cam nodded curtly, trying to hide her turmoil. "You have me at a disadvantage. I didn't see any of our people outside or in the crowd."

"Ever observant, Commander. They're in a car parked across the street." She continued quickly, when she saw Cam frown. Blair's smile widened as she assured Cam that everyone in attendance had been thoroughly prescreened. "I'm quite safe."

Cam finally smiled, and began to relax. "Forgive me. It is not my place to question these things any longer. It was good to see you again, Ms. Powell." She turned to leave, needing to escape from the penetrating blue gaze and the searing touch on her arm.

"Wait, Cam," Blair said impulsively. When Cameron turned back to look at her questioningly, she continued, "I wanted to say -- ' thank you'. It is so inadequate, but - I - thank you."

Cam spoke without thinking. "You don't need to thank me. I couldn't have borne it if anything had happened to you."

Blair grasped her hand, and their fingers entwined instinctively. "Why do you think I would feel any differently?" She questioned, her throat closing on the words. "I was so frightened – don't you know I lo—"

"I should go," Cam said desperately. Her carefully constructed barricades were tumbling around her. Every defense she had so carefully constructed was shattering in the face of Blair's simple statement. She felt defenseless, vulnerable, and overwhelmed.

"No, I should go. You came to see your mother. I know she is looking forward to you being here." Blair tried unsuccessfully to hide her bitter disappointment. She didn't think she could stand to be in the same room as Cam and feel the great distance between them. It was like a physical blow. "It was good to see you again, too, Commander. Please know I'll never forget you."

And with that, she was gone.

**********

Marcea kissed her daughter on both cheeks, then grasped both her hands and leaned back, surveying her fondly. "I'm so glad you came, Cameron. I know these aren't your favorite events."

Cam tried to smile, still shaken by her encounter with Blair. "I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm so happy for you."

Marcea detected the turmoil in her daughter's eyes, and glanced briefly around the room. She did not see Blair. She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke gently. "I know that Blair was hoping to see you here, too."

Cam swallowed, replying softly, "We just spoke."

Marcea remained silent, sensing Cameron's struggle for composure. Instinctively, she continued, "I'm sure no one told you, Cameron, but Blair stayed by your side for almost 48 hours after you were injured. She refused to leave until the doctors told us that you were out of danger."

Cam gasped, and her eyes closed briefly. "It was her," she whispered.

"Yes," her mother said simply.

Cameron at looked her mother intently, a great weight suddenly lifting from her heart. She smiled, her eyes flickering with a light that had been absent for more than a year. "Thank you, mother. Thank you."

Marcea had no time to answer before Cam turned and swiftly made her way through the crowd and out the door.
 

"I need to see her, Mac," Cam said much more calmly than she felt. "I've been leaving messages for hours."

Mac didn't even consider not telling her. "She's downtown. We know where she is, but it's awkward to make contact at the present time."

Cam didn't need an interpreter. "Okay, so she's in a bar." She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sinking sensation in her stomach. "Or is it that she's gone home with someone she picked up?"

"No," Mac hastened to add clarify. "She didn’t. She’s still at the bar." He didn't think it was his place to tell her that this was the first time in months that Blair had been out to a bar, or that she seemed to have given up her penchant for one night stands.

"I'd appreciate it if you’d tell me which one," Cam stated quietly.

"The Hudson Arms," Mac said, indicating one of the seedier bars deep in the village. "Stark is inside somewhere."

Meaning Stark will recognize me if I show up, and he's worried about my reputation "Thanks, Mac," Cam said, not caring in the least what anyone thought.

**********

Thirty-five minutes later Cam was standing at the bar, surreptitiously scanning the room. It was Friday night, after midnight, and crowded with women of all ages, mostly in denim and leather. She didn't see her immediately, but she did see Stark. Stark saw her too, although Stark did not acknowledge her in any way. A slight raise of the eyebrow was all that indicated she had been spotted.

She's getting good, Cam thought with approval. She stopped searching faces, and allowed all of her senses to engage the room, feeling the damp heat of many bodies brushing against her skin; smelling the mixture of alcohol, cologne, and sex in the air; and hearing the murmur of the hunt swirling around her. She sensed rather than saw the ultimate huntress in the crowd.

Tawny blond hair, taut golden body, and a piercing, searching gaze that evaluated, then discarded, possible partners. Finally Blair's focus settled on a dark, lean warrior in tight blue jeans and a sleeveless black T-shirt. The young stud must have felt Blair's appraising glance, because she looked up and moved automatically closer to Blair. Cam didn't need to see any more. She knew exactly what would happen, and how quickly the capture would be consummated.

Not this time

Cam moved quickly, reaching Blair just as the dark-haired youth stretched out a hand to brush Blair's cheek.

Cam grasped the woman's wrist, firmly but not harshly. "Sorry, she's not available."

The younger woman attempted a show of bravado, stiffening as she turned to face Cam. "Oh yeah? Since when?" she said with a sneer.

Cam's voice was low, but steely. "Since right now."

There must have been something in Cam's demeanor that warned of impending danger, because the other woman hesitated for a brief second, then melted swiftly into the crowd.

"Thanks a lot. You just ruined my evening," Blair said by way of greeting. She was secretly shocked to see Cam, and even more at a loss to explain her actions. It was the first time Cam had ever overtly interfered with Blair's private activities. As if that weren't enough, there was a coiled tension in her ex- security chief's body that was impossible to miss. If she didn't know better, she would've thought it was sexual.

"Ruining your evening was not what I had in mind," Cameron rejoined.

Blair caught her breath, but managed to respond evenly, "Oh? And just what did you have in mind?"

Cameron reached for her hand and tugged. "Come with me."

Blair hesitated, so shocked she felt disoriented. "No, wait -- we can't. Stark is on the other side of the room."

Cameron looked at her coolly. "It won't be the first time she's seen you leave with a woman." Her tone was flat, but not unkind. She saw no point in pretending that they both didn't know what had happened in the past.

"Yes, but it would be the first time she's ever seen me leave with you."

Cam's face softened, and she linked her fingers gently through Blair's. "Don't let it concern you. It doesn't bother me. Please -- " she tugged on Blair's hand again, leading her through the crowd.

Blair felt strangely powerless to resist. Perhaps because she had absolutely no desire to.

**********

Blair followed, unprotesting, through the dark night to Cam's car, riding silently beside her, walking wordlessly through the lobby, until finally she stood in the hotel room, looking around her.

"I have no idea why I'm here," Blair said softly.

Cameron stopped and turned, their bodies mere inches apart. "Don't you?"

Blair caught her breath, acutely aware of the heat in Cameron's gaze, feeling her own heart race as a swell of desire coursed through her. "No." All her usual quick retorts and caustic replies had deserted her. This was a new experience. She was suddenly immersed in a scene she had not written, in a role she did not know how to play. She had only her instincts to fall back on, and the unavoidable demands of her own emotions. "I can only hope."

Her honesty made her touchingly vulnerable.

Cam shed her jacket swiftly, tossing it onto the couch. She moved just as quickly to take Blair into her arms. "Do I need to tell you that I want you? Is there anything words can convey that this can't?"

As she whispered the words, her hands dropped to Blair's buttocks, pulling Blair into her as her mouth came down heavily, possessively, on Blair's lips. There was no mistaking the message in her actions.

Blair was beyond surprise. How many nights she had lain awake, trying not to think about how much she wanted this elusive woman. The countless times she had attempted to ablate the need with her own touch. But even her familiar hands, and unerring caresses, could not still the longing in her body. The reality was so much more than her imaginings, she could scarcely absorb it. Something in her core was melting, surging white hot and molten through her limbs. She clutched Cam's shoulders for support, uncertain how long she could stand. She opened her mouth in response to the harsh pressure of Cam's kisses, instantly filled with Cam's probing tongue. She bit down hard enough to make Cam grunt, and sucked ferociously as Cameron yanked the blouse from Blair's jeans and trust her hands upward along Blair's rib cage. Blair moaned as Cam grasped her breasts, her strong fingers squeezing Blair's nipples. Suddenly, fear warred with desire. No one had touched her this way in years. She had never wanted anyone to touch her this way. She was close to totally losing control, and the small part of her mind that was still able to function rebelled.

"No," Blair gasped, yanking her mouth away.

Cam did not want to stop. She lowered her head and grasped the soft skin of Blair's neck in her teeth. She tugged, growling, as she thrust her thigh between Blair's legs. "I've wanted you for so long," she gasped, her teeth on Blair's earlobe now, biting lightly as her tongue swirled over the sensitive ridges. "Please -- "

Blair couldn't think, as each second her body pushed closer to the edge. Dimly, she was aware of the rhythmic motion of her own pelvis rubbing against the hard muscles of Cam's thigh. A terrible pressure was building between her legs, and she whimpered as spasms began to ripple outward.

"Oh no," she gasped, her voice quite different now. "I think I'm going to come -- "

Cameron laughed, a triumphant half sob, as she lifted her up, forcing Blair to thread her legs around Cam's waist for balance. Cam held the trembling woman in her arms as she moved toward her bedroom.

"Hold on to it," Cam whispered urgently. "Wait as long as you can --I want to taste you first."

Blair struggled to focus on Cam's face as Cam lowered her to the bed. Blair reached for the buttons on her jeans as Cam urgently stripped off her own clothing. She grabbed for Cam, pulling her heavily down on top of her, scissoring her legs around Cam's thigh again. She bit down hard on the skin and muscle of Cam's shoulder, rubbing herself desperately along Cam's leg.

"I don't think I can," Blair gasped, her fingers digging into Cam's back. "I want to come so much --oh, oh --Jesus, I need to --"

Cam braced her arms on the bed and pushed herself up, and in one fluid motion slid down between Blair's legs. She wasn't thinking, she was too hungry for that. It had been so long, so very long. She slipped the palms of her hands under Blair's buttocks and lifted, Blair's legs settling around her shoulders. Then Cam's lips were on her, sucking her heat, swallowing her desire, stroking her need. She could feel Blair's clit throbbing between her lips, and she knew that even as she began to lick her that Blair was coming. She didn't stop, even when Blair cried out repeatedly. She kept up the motion, stroking harder, faster, until once again she felt Blair's clitoris swell and pulsate. She drove Blair relentlessly, not caring about anything except her own ferocious need to consume her. Within moments, Blair was trembling, her hands twisted in Cameron's hair.

"Oh god, it feels so good --" Blair wailed as her body convulsed.

Cameron didn't move for many moments after Blair quieted, resting her cheek on the soft smooth skin of Blair's inner thigh. She listened to Blair breathe, as her own racing heart stilled. Her lids fluttered on the edge of sleep, and she drifted, content and completely satisfied.
 

Cam awoke with Blair slowly stroking her hair. It was dark, with a faint grey at the window that hinted at dawn. The sheets were twisted about her waist, and she still lay half upon Blair’s body.

"Are you cold?" Cam murmured, pulling the covers with her as she pushed upward, slipping an arm behind Blair’s shoulders as she moved.

"No," Blair whispered as she turned into Cam, resting her head on Cam's shoulder. There was a moment of silence as they tentatively pressed closer, each acutely aware of the others uncertainty.

"I can't remember the last time someone made love to me," Blair finally said.

Cam could remember precisely the last time she had made love to another woman. It had been casually, as if it were only one time in many, with many more to come. She hadn't known that early morning two years ago that it would be the last time she would touch Janet alive.

"It's been a very long time for me too," was all Cam said. She had no need to explain or relive the past. It had taken until now, and had taken this particular woman, to awaken a desire that had lain buried in pain and guilt for months.

If Blair wondered about Cam's past, she did not ask. What they needed to know of each other had begun with that morning when Cam had first appeared at Blair's apartment, commanding and certain and unyielding. The memory rekindled Blair's desire, and she lowered her head to softly kiss the tender skin just below Cam's right nipple. Then parting her lips, she nipped gently, eliciting a soft groan from Cam. She waited a heartbeat, then took Cam's nipple into her mouth, worrying it with her tongue and teeth. She continued until Cam pressed upward, her hips arching slightly off the bed. Blair moved lower, kissing and lightly biting along Cam's ribs, down the flat plane of her belly, until she circled Cam's naval with her tongue. Cam's hands were in her hair, urging her downward, but Blair resisted, taking her time, wanting to be sure that she had Cam's full attention. Lightly she trailed her fingers up the inside of Cam's legs, stopping just short of the heat that radiated from her.

"Jesus," Cam gasped, "are you going to make me beg for it?"

Blair nestled her breasts between Cam's legs. She could feel the slick warmth against her own nipples. "That was the general idea."

Cam rotated her hips, attempting to draw the teasing firmness of Blair's nipples across the tip of her clit. She groaned, a deep choking sound. "Just touch me a little, just a little--"

Blair brought her right hand upward, pressing her thumb against the ring of muscle encircling Cam's ass. She did not enter, but stroked over the slick tissues.

Cam pressed her head back against the pillows, gritting her teeth, wanting the pleasure to continue, not knowing if it she could bear it. "You're killing me, I swear to god --"

Blair smiled, flicking her tongue over the base of Cam's clitoris. "Oh, I doubt you'll go that easily, Commander," she whispered throatily. She was rewarded with a faint sob.

Taking her time, Blair traced the very edges of the swollen tissues with her tongue, sliding inside at the same time. Cam's muscles contracted violently around Blair's fingers, her clitoris lengthening and became harder still.

"Do it, please, do it, do it --" Cam pleaded desperately.

As much as she wanted to savor every instant of Cam's desire, Blair was starting to lose control herself. She had wanted this for so long, and the reality was so much more than she had imagined, her head was pounding and her thighs clenched and unclenched involuntarily. When she took Cam between her lips, she could feel an answering surge in her own clitoris. She never came without direct stimulation, but she realized that she was very nearly there just from touching Cameron. She squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to focus on Cam's rhythm.

Suddenly Cameron twisted on the bed, shifting so that she lay beside Blair, her face close to Blair's belly. Seamlessly, they moved to echo each other's caresses, lips and hands calling and answering as instinctively as their two hearts beat in synchrony. Cam was already too close, and started to come almost as soon as Blair began licking her in long steady strokes. Cam moaned, her lips encircling Blair's clitoris, sucking as her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers clasped Blair's buttocks, pulling Blair even harder against her face, trying to maintain contact as her body bucked and surged with the explosion between her legs. Distantly, she heard Blair whimper, and knew that Blair had been caught on the crest of their twin passions.

**********

When they awoke again, it was late morning

"I'm surprised Mac hasn't found you yet," Cameron remarked lazily.

"He's not as good as you are," Blair said quietly.

"You should probably call them."

"Why? Stark knew I left with you," Blair observed.

"I know. But they may not know that you're still with me, and there's no need to cause a panic."

Blair thought about it for a minute, then padded into the other room and made the call. While she was there, she called room service as well and ordered a late breakfast for them both. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, observing Cameron propped up on the pillows, a sheet drawn up to her waist. She caught her breath, amazed at how much she wanted her.

"How long are you here for?" Blair asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Officially? Another four days. I have a new assignment and I'm supposed to report back to Washington for it."

Blair tried to hide her disappointment. What did you expect?

Cameron watched her carefully, finding her expression impossible to read. "Unofficially, I'm supposed to be here observing you."

Blair laughed, but there was an edge to her tone when she said, "Well, your methods are certainly unorthodox."

"I told them I wouldn't do it," Cam clarified.

Blair said on the edge of the bed, her hand resting possessively on Cam's thigh. "Why not?"

Cam lifted Blair's hand to her lips, and kissed each fingertip. "Because Mac is a good man, and I know he can do the job." She turned Blair's hand over, and pressed her lips to Blair's palm. "And because I respect you, and I know how little privacy you have left."

"But you came to the bar last night," Blair observed quietly.

Cam nodded, reaching for Blair and pulling her into her arms. "That wasn't business. That was personal."

Blair closer her eyes, fearful of how much she wanted to hear these words. "How personal?"

Cam's embrace tightened, and she rested her cheek against the top of Blair's head. Her voice was husky as she answered quietly, "As personal as it gets."
 

After breakfast, they showered and dressed, Blair wearing clothes she borrowed from Cam.

"What happens next?" Blair asked, surprisingly uncertain.

Cam thought of a number of replies, but decided with a sigh that only the truth would do. She met Blair's questioning gaze squarely. "In a few days, I'll be back in Washington. You'll still be the daughter of the President of the United States. I'm not sure we have much to say about what happens next."

She held up a hand as Blair began to protest. "I want to see you again. But unless I'm assigned to your security detail, any relationship between us will be obvious, and suspect."

"I don't want you on my detail," Blair said with finality.

Cam leaned back against the door jam, hands in her pockets, studying Blair calmly. "Yes, you made that quite clear. But it does provide good cover."

Blair's eyes blazed. "Cover!? So I am supposed to put your life in danger so that no one will know I'm a lesbian?"

Cam's brows arched in surprise. "Put my life in danger? That was a one in a million occurrence!"

"Oh sure! Has it occurred to you that he's still out there? If not him, someone else?"

Cam shrugged. "You can't let something like that dictate your actions. You simply need to be cautious, and have good people around you."

"Good people --yes. But not you. I have no intention of letting you protect me at the risk of your own safety."

"That's what I do, Blair," Cam insisted gently.

"Not for me," Blair said, pushing the memory of Cam's bloodied body lying on the sidewalk from her mind. In a softer tone, she repeated, "Not for me."

Cam didn't miss the pain flaring in Blair's eyes. She now knew that Blair had spent those first tenuous hours in the hospital waiting by her side. Cam went to her quickly and encircled Blair in her arms. "Hey, it's over. I'm fine."

Blair kissed her firmly, a mixture of passion and relief. "And I prefer you stay that way."

Cam leaned back, a soft smile on her lips. "Then it appears we have a problem, Ms. Powell. If I can't guard you, what excuse do I have to be with you?"

Blair took a deep breath, and then took the biggest risk she had ever taken. "How about because you love me?"

Cam stood very still, her hands resting on Blair's waist. She thought of her career, she thought of Blair's reputation, she thought of the President's public image. She kissed Blair gently on the forehead, and whispered, "Well, there is that."

Blair released the breath she had been holding, and rested her cheek against Cam's shoulder. "Since the feeling is mutual, I'd say we have a plan, Commander."

Cam laughed, her heart soaring. "The fact that we agree is downright scary," she murmured.

Blair bit her just hard enough to make her jump. "I don't want you to get used to it."

Cam pulled Blair back toward the bed. "Oh, I might – in a century or so."
 

The End
 
 

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