"I spoke with your father this afternoon," Cam said darkly. "He seems to feel that I'm the best person for this job. So do I. This is one time your influence is not going to have any effect."


Blair stared at her, opened-mouthed in astonishment. When she could find her voice, she said incredulously, "You spoke with my father?"


Cam walked a few feet towards a nearby sofa and leaned against the back, trying to work out some of the tension in her body. She felt wound so tight she was afraid she'd lose control, and at this point, Blair's very future could depend upon what happened between them in the next few minutes. "It was unexpected. He showed up at the briefing about this - situation."


Thinking back, it had been a strange encounter.


The President had acted as if Doyle and Cam hadn't been about to fling themselves over the table at each other, merely motioning to the people gathered with one hand and saying, "Sit, please."


They had done so, and the NSA representative introduced the others and hastened to assure the President that everything possible was being done to protect his daughter. Andrew Powell said nothing, listening quietly and studying each face carefully. After a minute or two he said, "I'm sure that everything is being done appropriately. I'm on a tight schedule and I'd like to speak with Agent Roberts, if your meeting is concluded."


That was clearly a dismissal.


Lindsey Ryan stood immediately and began gathering her things, as did Stewart Carlisle. Doyle and Owens looked like they might object for a moment, and then with slightly disgruntled expressions, filed out of the room. When the door closed, for the first time in her life, Cam stood alone facing the President of the United States. Their eyes met and Cam asked, "What may I do for you, Mr. President?"


A very faint smile flickered across his handsome face. She saw Blair in him as his features briefly softened, and in that instant, her anger turned to hard resolve. She would not allow Blair to become a pawn in some ambitious bureaucrat's political game, nor would she see her become the object of a psychotic's obsession.


"It seems that I need to rely on you again, Agent Roberts, to look after my daughter. I'm sure the task force is doing everything they can, but I know my daughter, and she is not going to make this easy for anyone."


"Sir," Cam began, intending to defend Blair. Given the circumstances, her security team had had the least problems of any working with her.


He raised his hand as if he knew what she were going to say. He looked past her for a moment, as if seeing something she couldn't. "She didn't choose this life - I chose it for her. It's been hard for her. I know that. She's strong and she's stubborn and I wouldn't change anything about her. I'm counting on you to see that both her freedom and her safety continue."


"Yes sir, Mr. President," Cam said very quietly, her eyes never leaving his. "I'll do that, sir. You can depend on it."


He had nodded, thanked her, and left the room. Had she not had her own motives for needing to be involved, his unspoken command would have been enough. But she did have her own reasons. And they were very personal.


Cam looked at Blair and said softly, "I'm sorry, Blair. I'm staying."




Chapter Eight

I'm staying.The words screamed in Blair's head. Words she wanted to hear from her, but not this way. Not like this. Not because of this. She couldn't have this conversation any longer. She couldn't think about what it meant for either of them.I'm staying.


She grabbed her bag from a nearby table and snapped, "Well, I'm not. I'm going out."


Cam made no move to stop her. She would not be her jailor. But when she spoke, her voice held a question. "Blair?"


Something in the almost defeated tone of Cam's voice stopped her. It was a weariness she had rarely heard in her, even after she'd worked days on no sleep. Blair turned from the door, looking back at her where she still leaned against the back of the sofa. She had been almost too angry to see her clearly before, but now the shadows in Cam's face stood out in gaunt relief. It was her eyes, though, that gave her away. They were dull with fatigue, flickering with something close to despair. She hadn't looked like that even when she'd been in the hospital recovering from her wounds.


"What?" Blair asked, softer than she had meant, struggling with a nearly irresistible urge to go to her. It was so hard to hold onto her anger when she so wanted to hold her.


"Have you told them downstairs that you're going out?" Cam asked, pushing herself upright.


"No," Blair answered curtly, just as quickly irritated again as Cam resumed her official role.


"Is it a personal engagement?" Cam continued, keeping her voice carefully neutral. She had to ask in order to do her job, but she didn't need or want to know the details if Blair was seeing someone. "Will you need the car?" She searched her memory for the day's itinerary, which she had reviewed the night before. After the day she had just spent in Washington that seemed like a month ago to her now. And of course it was before she knew that Blair wasn't really safe anywhere. They would have to provide much closer coverage than they usually did even for non-official functions. "We didn't have you scheduled for anything tonight."


"It was a last minute thing," Blair informed her. She always hated discussing her private plans with her security people. It made her feel so exposed. This was worse. Reluctantly she added, "It's a party at Diane's."


Cam's expression didn't change, but she knew what Blair was saying. A party meant it was not 'official'. If it were a date, it was none of her business. "Can you give me a few minutes to get someone for you? Stark and Grant are both off-duty, and you'll want a woman."


Blair opened the door and stepped into the hallway. "Fielding and Foster can wait in the car outside Diane's apartment. They always have before."


Cam followed her out of the loft, already activating her radio. "Fielding, bring the car around, and find Ellen Grant or Stark for me. ASAP." She crossed to the elevator and said flatly, "I need someone inside."


"It's Diane's, for Christ's sake," Blair replied with irritation, punching the lobby button. "Do you think he's going to show up in drag?"


"I don't know what he's going to do!" Cam retorted in an uncharacteristically aggravated tone. "Until twelve hours ago, I didn't even know he was active."


Blair had no answer for that. She had ignored the first few messages she received by post, hoping they were just random crank mail, unrelated to what had happened before. She got them from time to time, usually from disgruntled individuals who didn't like her father's politics. Sometimes from overenthusiastic supporters. Occasionally from people obsessed with her, asking for photos or dates or even articles of clothing. But never anything quite like these messages. Intimate, suggestive, and most frighteningly, knowledgeable. When the email started, she had confided in her friend at the Bureau and that had been a mistake. Friendship has it limits, and her old school chum had decided that it was news she couldn't keep to herself.


"You didn't need to know. Doyle knew," Blair retorted as the elevator opened onto the lobby, still angry with AJ for reporting it.


Cam didn't bother to point out that she needed to know for any number of reasons, not all of them professional, because it was done. Blair had shut her out, and there was nothing to do now but regain control of the situation.


Blair walked toward the front door, acutely aware that Cam had moved slightly ahead of her to go through first. Unexpectedly she saw it all again in slow-motion replay - the bright sunlight, the screams of frantic men, the spreading blossom of rich red on Cam's chest as she dropped first to her knees, then collapsed to her back on the sidewalk. By then the other agents had pulled Blair inside, behind the glass doors, and she couldn't reach her. She couldn't hold her.


"Blair?" Cam asked, concerned by Blair's sudden pallor.


Blair jerked at the sound of Cam's voice and hurried to cross the sidewalk, the image of Cam's ashen face as she lay dying mercifully beginning to fade. Cam opened the car door and Blair brushed her fingers lightly over Cam's sleeve, reassured by the solid presence of her. She didn't trust herself to speak but just slid into the rear of the black sedan parked at the curb.


*


Diane Bleeker kissed Blair lightly on the cheek as she admitted her to a room already filled with people. The lights were conversationally dim, female servers in white shirts, black bow ties, and tailored black trousers moved carefully through the crowd with trays of hors d'oeuvres balanced in front of them. Soft music accompanied the murmur of voices.


"Your choice of escorts is improving," Diane remarked, a hint of surprise in her voice as she watched Cam move to one side of the spacious living room.


"I'm alone," Blair responded, slipping past her and heading for the bar that had been set up in one corner.


Diane threaded her way through the crowd in Blair's wake, reaching for a glass of white wine as Blair waited for the very attractive redheaded bartender in the tuxedo shirt and tight black leather pants to mix her a drink. "If you needed a date, I could have found you one. Marcie Coleman has been trying to get you to go out with her for weeks. You could do worse than a successful young surgeon, you know."