Love & Honor

Chapter Fifteen

Cam watched Blair as wordless moments passed. It was the quiet that worried her. Anger she would have expectedeven, considering the circumstances-embraced. Accusations of her own complicity in allowing the photo to be taken, however unfounded, would have been more welcome than the curtain of silence that fell heavily between them.

She tried to imagine how it must feel to have one's most personal experiences on display, not just once, but repeatedly. She couldn't, even though it washer picture in the newspaper as well. Even had her face been clear, and her name printed in bold letters beneath the image, it wouldn't have been the same thing for her as it was for Blair. She wasn't recognized the world over, nor was her family likely to be held up to scrutiny by self-appointed guardians of right and wrong whose true motivation was nothing loftier their own their political gain. She was guilty of nothing, but even if she were, her transgression would soon be forgotten.

That was not the case for Blair Powell or her father. The President was not immune to the effect of public opinion, just the opposite. Right or wrong had nothing to do with the fact that powerful groups jockeyed constantly for position and influence in the Washington political arena. Something as inflammatory as Andrew Powell's daughter's love affair-especially herlesbian love affair-would give his opponents one more piece of ammunition to threaten him with.

"Blair," Cam began gently, "is there anything I can do?"

Finally turning away from the window and the night and her own troubled thoughts, Blair straightened infinitesimally. When she spoke, her voice was stronger, carrying a hint of its old steel. "Yes. You can tell me right now if you're up for what's coming."

"What?" Cam exclaimed, too surprised by the question to even absorb it completely. When the reality of what Blair was asking finally hit her, she replied heatedly, "You can't really think that this would matter to me?"

"It's one thing to talk in the abstract about the possibility of exposure. It's quite another thing to be the center of a media circus. Believe me, I know."

"Jesus Christ."

Cam stared at her as she bit back another irate retort. Blairs voice had been calm, steady-her face expressionless. She looked the way she'd looked the first day Cam had met her-cool, controlled, untouchable. Cam remembered very well the angry, wounded woman Blair had been, and how in recent weeks that rage had burned less brightly and the wounds had seemed less raw. Until this.

Christ, she's scared.

That realization defused Cam's anger. Fear was not something she associated with the Presidents daughter, and perhaps for the first time, she understood the price of Blairs strength-the isolation and the impenetrable defenses and the expectation of loss.

Quickly, Cam shifted across the narrow space between them until she was sitting on the seat next to Blair. She found her hand in semi-darkness and whispered vehemently, "I intend to find out who is behind this. Once I do, I intend to kick their ass from one side of this continent to the other. I love you. Nothing and no one will ever change that."

Blair tightened her grip on Cam's hand and leaned into the reassuring solidity of her body. "You don't even know yet what kind of pressure there's going to be for us to stop seeing one another."

The words hit Cam in the center of her chest like a sledgehammer. Even being shot hadn't hurt as much. "No. Don't even think it, because it gives the possibility power. Please."

"When you were shot", Blair said as if reading her thoughts, «I felt parts of me dying with you. Her voice was hushed, as if she were speaking in a dream. "I had only just begun to let you in, and I was nearly lost already. Now, I dont think I could survi"

"Blair. I love you. I am not going anywhere. I swear."

Blair searched her eyes and saw only truth. "It scares me how much I need you."

"Dont forget I need you, too". Cam lifted Blairs hand, brushed a kiss swiftly across the back of her knuckles. "More than youll ever know."

"Ill try to remember that". Blair drew the first full breath shed taken since the airport. "So-what do we do now, Commander?"

Cam laughed, but there was an edge to the laughter. "Im a Secret Service agent. Do you think I cant track down the little bastard that gave that photo to the wire service?"

"Just be careful, Cam", Blair warned. «Someone doesnt need a gun to be dangerous. In the right hands, a camera can be lethal.

"Any coward who chooses this underhanded way of going after you is no threat to me. Dont worry."

"Why dont I feel reassured?"

"Ill be careful. But this is what I do."

"I suppose I have to accept the logic of that", Blair finally conceded. Again she sighed. "I'm surprised I haven't heard from the White House by now. The Chief of Staff must be having kittens all over the West Wing."

"I thought Lucinda Washburn was a personal friend of your family's," Cam said, referring to the woman who most people considered the most powerful woman in Washington. As the first female Chief of Staff, she held the President's ear and served as his most instrumental adviser. When Andrew Powell had run for the presidency, he had made it very clear that no decision would be made without her input. That had proved to be true over the first months of his tenure when economic crises at home and the reemergence of violent foreign unrest had placed his administration in the spotlight.

"Trust me," Blair said without any hint of animosity. "Lucy's number one goal from the day my father was sworn in has been to get him reelected. She's known him since they were in college, and I think she's been working to get him where he is today since then. She'd sacrifice almost anything oranyone to keep him in the White House for a second term."

"And you think that includes forcing you to...what?" Cam asked in frustration. "Give up our relationship?"

"I think Lucy considers relationships expendable if they stand in the way of a higher goal."

"What about your father? Does he feel the same way?"

"I don't know." Blair glanced out the window as they emerged from the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, realizing that they were only moments from her building. "I don't know him well enough to guess. But I don't think it will be very long before we find out."

*****

A few minutes later, the cars pulled up in front of Blair's apartment building, and the occupants of both vehicles began the familiar, choreographed routine of disembarking. Once through the doors and into the small but ornate lobby of the elegant building, Blair hesitated. The elevator was twenty feet away, and Stark had already walked over to it and keyed the single locked car which went to Blair's top floor apartment. Turning her back to the elevator and the agents waiting nearby, Blair faced Cam and said hurriedly in a voice too low for the others to hear, "Is there any way you can stay?"

Cam could only imagine what it cost Blair to ask that. Her eyes swept over the agents waiting to accompany Blair upstairs, several of whom would remain one floor below her apartment in the command center for the remainder of the night shift.

"I want to. You know that don't you?" Cam said, her voice a strained whisper.

Blair's eyes swiftly became unreadable. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Blair..."

Abruptly, Blair turned and walked directly across the lobby and into the open elevator. Stark followed her in and the doors closed soundlessly behind them.

Turning to Davis and the others, Cam said bitingly, "I'll be on my pager."

"Roger," Felicia Davis replied, her expression carefully neutral.

Cam turned without another word, pushed through the double doors, and was quickly lost to the dark.