"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. Ican't do my duty, simply because Ican'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 Blairs 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 Cams.


"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 Cams height. Together they were a striking couple. As Blair stepped to Cams 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.


Shes safe


Cams 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.







Chapter Eighteen



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 helpsme ."


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.