Chapter eighteen

22 August 2001

Cam leaned against the stone pillar that supported the wrought-iron gate on the east side of Gramercy Park, surveying the entrance to Blair's apartment building. At 11:30 a.m., a stylish blond in a navy blue linen dress, the hemline high enough to accentuate elegantly sculpted calves, exited and walked to the curb. Brushing her shoulder-length hair back with one casual sweep of her hand, the woman glanced down the street, apparently in search of a cab.

"Diane," Cam called as she pushed away from the wall and crossed the street

Diane Bleeker looked around in surprise and smiled curiously as Cam approached. "Why, hello, Cam." Her voice was whiskey warm and her gaze leisurely as it traversed Cam's face and then did a slow appraisal of her body. She curled her fingers into the crook of Cam's arm with casual affection. "I haven't seen you in far too long. How are you?"

"I'm fine." The unusual absence of flirtation in the blond's tone instantly raised Cam's suspicions. Diane, Blair's business agent and best friend, was seductive by nature, and although Cam never took her seriously, she had come to expect a certain amount of suggestiveness in her manner. Its absence confirmed her concerns that something was not right—and seriously so. "Would you walk with me for a few minutes? I'll see that one of my agents takes you home after that."

"Only if you promise that it will be the beautiful Felicia," Diane responded with her winning smile.

Cam shook her head as they began to walk north, grinning despite the uneasiness churning in her depths. "Actually, Felicia isn't on duty. How about John Fielding?"

"Oh, really. He's hardly an appropriate substitute." Diane gave an elaborate sigh, but her eyes were devoid of merriment. "You don't have to take one of your agents away from their duties, Cam. I'll get a cab when we're done. Now, not that I mind you lying in wait to spirit me off, but I suspect it's more than a stroll you have in mind."

"Yes," Cam said quietly. "It's Blair. I'd hoped you could tell me what's wrong." The change in Diane's expression was barely perceptible, but Cam sensed her withdrawal and fought back a surge of temper born of two days of confusion and worry. "We've been back in the city since Monday, and she hasn't left her apartment once. I haven't seen her, even for briefings. She's canceled them all."

"Surely you've talked."

"On the phone" Cam shook her head in frustration. "Several times a day, in fact. But every time I've asked to see her, she's given me an excuse."

"You do know that she's working on the paintings for her show on the eighth, don't you?"

"Yes, I know that, and I know how consuming that can be. My mother is an artist—so are most of her friends. I've spent my life around them. But I've seen Blair work against a deadline before, and she's never shut herself away so completely." Not away from me.

"And she hasn't said...anything?"

"No. When we left DC, everything seemed fine." We made love almost all night. We were happy. She'd asked herself a dozen times what could have caused the abrupt change, and each time she'd come up empty. They hadn't had much time for conversation in the rush to get the team briefed before the short flight home. Blair had been quiet during the journey, but they certainly hadn't fought. Cam ran a hand through her hair, cursing herself under her breath. "I feel like an idiot even talking to you about this. But today she called to see you, so I thought—Christ, I don't know what I thought."

"Love makes fools of us all," Diane murmured in a surprisingly gentle voice. "You must remember that Blair and I have been friends since we were barely more than children. Despite the fact that we often argue and have been known to compete over...all manner of things, we love each other. She feels safe with me."

It was the kindness in Diane's voice's that brought a chill to Cam's heart. She stopped walking and drew Diane under the awning of a hotel, out of the way of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk. She stared into Diane's eyes and thought she glimpsed sympathy there. "There is something wrong, isn't there? What is it?"

"Cam." Tenderly, Diane stroked the tight line of Cam's jaw. "Give her just a little more time. She's not used to being loved the way you love her."

"The waiting is killing me," Cam confessed in a tormented voice.

"I know. And so does she." Diane leaned close and kissed Cam's cheek. "I'm going to get that cab now. You have my number. Call any time."

Cam waited on the sidewalk until Diane disappeared into a cab, then turned to walk back toward Blair's apartment. If she'd thought Blair was being thoughtless or intentionally disregarding her feelings or just simply ignoring her, she would have insisted that Blair see her, explain what the hell was going on. But she'd heard the hesitation in Blair's voice when they had talked, as if Blair was struggling to be close but couldn't find a way. And some sixth sense told her that she had to let Blair be the one to break the silence. She just didn't know how long she could endure it, because she had never been so lonely in her life.

"Commander?"

"What?" Cam barked, not looking up from the reports she'd been reading all afternoon. Mindless, tiresome, boring work. Anything to pass the time.

"Ms. Powell just called. She asked if you were available to see h—"

Cam stood so quickly her chair rocketed backward and hit the wall. "Thank you, Agent Wright."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry Wright stepped hastily aside as Cam charged past.

Two minutes later, Cam knocked on the door to Blair's penthouse loft. Almost immediately, the door opened and she stepped inside. The huge space, partitioned only in one corner for Blair's sleeping area and bathroom, was suffused with the golden glow of evening sunlight. In the sleeveless T-shirt and loose cotton drawstring pants that she favored when painting, Blair stood backlit, her face in shadows. It didn't seem possible, but Cam thought her lover looked thinner than the last time she'd seen her, only two days before. Uncertain if she had been summoned as Blair's lover or as her security chief, Cam did not move to touch her. "Hi."

"Hi," Blair said quietly, an edge of exhaustion in her voice. After a few seconds hesitation, she stepped closer and reached for Cam's hand. "Thanks for coming."

"How's it going?" Cam asked cautiously. Now that Blair was nearer, Cam noticed that there were deep shadows beneath her eyes and that their usual vibrant blue was dull with fatigue. The fingers that loosely clasped her own trembled slightly. With her free hand, Cam gently lifted Blair's chin until their eyes met. "You look beat."

"I've been working pretty much nonstop since we got back." Blair gestured over her shoulder toward her studio at the far end of the loft. "I finished two more canvases."

"Are you happy with them?" Cam felt as if she were walking across a minefield in the dark. There was a barrier between them as tangible as a stone wall, and she didn't know how to breach it. The separation, so real she could almost touch it, produced a nearly unbearable ache in her chest.

"Yes, I am. I think." Blair sighed and unconsciously rubbed at the headache that pounded between her brows. "I am pretty tired, I guess. I'll show you what I've done later, if you like."

"I'd like that very much." Cam drew Blair across the room to the sitting area. It was a testament to the depth of Blair's fatigue that she didn't protest when Cam guided her down to the sofa and then sat beside her. "I was starting to worry. You've been pretty quiet since we got back."

Uncharacteristically, Blair looked away. When she spoke again, she focused on their joined hands, which rested on the soft leather between them. "I called you because I need to go back to DC tomorrow."

Cam grimaced. "What is it this time? Lucinda or some other West Wing command performance?"

"Neither," Blair said in a subdued voice. "I have an appointment at Walter Reed Hospital tomorrow afternoon."

It took a moment for the words to register, and then Cam's blood turned to ice. "Why?"

Blair raised her eyes to Cam's. "I found a lump in my breast."

A million voices screamed inside Cam's head. Jesus, how long have you known? How could you wait to tell me? This isn't happening—not to her, not to us. Oh God, baby, are you scared? Christ, how am I going to fix this. And loudest of all, the desperate entreaty: Please, please don't let anything happen to her.

Throat so dry the words sliced her flesh as she spoke, Cam asked, "When? When did you...find it?"

"Monday morning..." Blair swallowed, struggling to fight back the terror. In some part of her mind, she had always known this was possible. Perhaps even probable. After all, she could recite the statistics from memory. But numbers and probabilities were so very different than the reality. Still, she reminded herself that this thing inside her could be nothing. And even if it was what she feared, she knew, too, of all the progress that had been made in treatment since her mother had been diagnosed. Since her mother had died. But despite what she knew, the experiences forged in childhood and burnished by loss rode roughshod over any rational thought, and all she could see was her mother's face and her father's sorrow. "I noticed it while I was showering."

"Why didn't I feel it?" Cam's words were more self-recrimination than question. Jesus, why didn’t I know?

"It might be nothing," Blair said, forcing optimism into her voice. "It's probably nothing. It's just…it has to be checked."

"Of course." Cam edged closer on the sofa and placed her hand gently on the small of Blair's back. Their thighs lightly touched, and their hands, still clasped, remained joined. "Which side?"

Wearily, Blair rested her head on Cam's shoulder. "The left."

The left. I touch you there all the time. Why couldn't...why didn't I feel it? If I had, would it have made a difference? Does it make a difference now? Oh, Christ. What does this mean? Cam feathered a kiss into Blair's hair and moved her hand up to cup Blair's neck, smoothing her fingers up and down the rigid muscles along her spine. "Can I...can I feel it? Will it hurt you if I do?"

"No," Blair rasped. "It won't hurt." She leaned her head back into Cam's palm, grateful for the strength in the long tender fingers. She searched Cam's eyes and saw something she'd never seen before, something she knew Cam would never let her see if she'd known it was apparent. Fear. She lifted a hand and stroked Cam's cheek. "It's all right."

Swiftly, Cam turned her face and pressed her lips to Blair's palm. "I know, baby. I know."

"I'm sorry I worried you."

Cam shook her head. "It's all right." She drew Blair close. "I wish you would have told me sooner...right away."

"I wanted to. I tried to." Blair's voice held a hint of confusion. "I just couldn't make myself say it." She shook her head. Her grip on Cam's fingers tightened. "That sounds crazy, doesn't it? I'm not naive. I knew it wasn't going to go away. I just wanted to come home and paint."

"Can we go into the bedroom?" Cam was desperate to hold her. Really hold her. She ached to shelter her, to somehow put herself between Blair and anything that could hurt her. She knew how to do that in the world outside these rooms. She trusted in her ability to keep Blair safe. But this...how did she protect her from this? She'd never felt so helpless or so frightened in her life—not even when she'd watched her father's car burn after the explosion, because she'd known, as much as she'd wanted to deny it, that he was already gone. "I want to hold you."

"Yes. God, Cam, I've missed you so much."

Cam fingered the Handie-Talkie on her belt. "Stark?"

"Yes, Commander?"

"You're in charge of the detail. I don't want any calls put through to me or Ms. Powell for any reason other than a Priority One."

"Yes, Commander," Stark snapped.

Thumbing the off button on the radio, Cam stood and guided Blair up. Arms around each other, they walked to the bedroom.

By the side of the bed, Cam swiftly shed her jacket and shoulder harness. As she reached to unbuckle her belt, she said, "Let's get into bed."

Wordlessly, Blair loosened the drawstring at her waist and pushed down the cotton pants. She hesitated only a second before grasping the hem of her T-shirt and drawing it off over her head. Naked, she slipped under the covers and held them back for her lover to join her.

Cam settled on her side beneath the sheets and faced Blair. "Show me where it is."

Blair took Cam's hand and drew it to her breast, pressing her fingers gently over a spot on the upper outer aspect of her left breast. "Here."

Carefully, Cam circled her fingertips over Blair's smooth skin. After a moment, she felt an area the size of a nickel that was firmer than the surrounding tissue. Hoarsely, she asked, "Is that it?"

"Yes."

It seems so small. That can't be anything, can it? Cam leaned down and kissed Blair's breast directly over the tiny mass. "I love you, Blair." Then she lay back and drew Blair into her arms, guiding Blair's head to her shoulder. With her arms wrapped tightly around her lover, she pressed her cheek to the top of Blair's head. "What should I do to help you?"

"Will you stay with me tonight?"

"Every night." Cam's voice was fierce. Let protocol be damned. Let the media and the Treasury Department and the White House be damned. Nothing is going to keep me from Blair's side. Not now, not ever again.

Blair felt Cam tremble and heard the rage simmering beneath the surface. She drew her leg over Cam's thigh and fit herself more closely to the curve of Cam's body. She feared the anger was with her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away."

"No," Cam rasped, closing her eyes tightly against the tears of anguish and fury. "I understand. You have nothing to apologize for."

Blindly, Blair reached up and pushed her fingers into Cam's hair, drawing her head down for a kiss. With the first touch of their lips, she felt the terrible weight lift from her spirit and sensed the strength returning to her soul. With a small sob of joy and welcome she gave herself to the tender caress of Cam's mouth on hers. Their touch spoke of joining and belonging and trust, and Blair drank of their union until the pain loosed its hold on her heart. With a sigh, she settled her cheek once more against Cam's shoulder. "I didn't realize how much I needed you. Not until just this moment."

"You won't forget that, will you?" Cam stroked Blair's hair. "I can't bear to be away from you. Not just now. Ever."

Blair was silent, wondering how it was that she believed those words. Wondering why she trusted that Cam would not leave her, no matter what came. Is this what love truly is? Believing without question? Knowing beyond doubt?

"I never thought about not telling you. I never thought that you wouldn't be here for me," Blair's voice held a hint of wonder. "That's because I know you love me."

"I do," Cam murmured, turning her face into Blair's hair to hide the tears she could not hold. "I do, Blair. With everything I am”

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