by Radclyffe
"Oh God. I...don't know where...that came from."
"Us. It came from us." With an arm around Blair's waist, holding her tightly to her chest, Cam brushed her cheek over Blair's hair. She ached with loving her and had trouble catching her breath. She felt the start of tears and, horrified, blinked them away. Kissing the top of Blair's head, she whispered, "Everything is going to be all right."
"Yes," Blair murmured wearily, her eyes closing as she listened to Cam's heart rate slow into the steady, strong cadence that personified everything about her lover. Everything she had come to rely upon. No matter what comes, it will be all right—as long as I have you.
Renee picked up the phone on the first ring. "FBI, Special Agent Savard. How may I help you?"
"You busy?"
"Hey." Unable to hide her smile of pleasure, Renee swiveled her chair away from the man who sat at the desk opposite her in the office that she shared with six other FBI agents. The New York City division of'the FBI, on floors 22 through 24 of the North Tower of the World Trade Center, was one of the agency's largest divisions outside of DC. A posting there was a much-sought-after assignment, as was the counterintelligence unit where Renee had worked for the last two days. Currently, she was doing little more than reading case files and report summaries to acquaint herself with the scope of the investigations undertaken by her new division. For many reasons, professionally and personally, she wanted this posting to become permanent. "Trying to look busy, anyhow. How about you?"
"We're headed back to DC."
"Oh?" Renee kept the surge of disappointment from her voice. "For how long?"
Stark sighed. "Don't know. I don't have any details."
"Will you call me, when you know?"
"Yes. Sorry about this."
"No need to be. I understand." Renee glanced quickly over her shoulder, but no one was paying any attention to her. Lowering her voice even further, she murmured, "I'll miss you."
"Me too. I really liked coming home last night and having you be there."
"None of that during working hours," Renee chided with another smile.
"What?" Stark asked in an innocent tone.
"You know what."
"Okay, maybe I do...a little."
"I should go," Renee said softly. "By the way... I really like waking up with you."
Stark made a sound halfway between a groan and a laugh. "Now look who's not playing fair."
"Call me soon. Be safe."
"Roger that." Stark hung up the phone gently, wondering when she would see her new lover again. Be safe.
You have one voice mail message. Please enter your password now.
The iron gray-haired man, flat stomached and tight jawed, followed the electronic commands and thumbed in the numbers on his cell phone as he navigated the Beltway. He had business meetings scheduled the entire day and another kind of meeting that evening. That meeting was with a group of men he swore he would never associate with five years ago. The old adage was true—-war made for strange bedfellows.
He kept his eyes on the five lanes of traffic as he listened to the message.
Target relocating unexpectedly to Zone One, precise destination undetermined. Duration unknown. Will advise.
A souped-up Mustang cut in front of him, forcing him to brake sharply. His violent curse, however, was not directed at the driver ahead of him but at the possible disruption of his carefully orchestrated plans. There had been far too many false starts brought about by inexcusable mistakes and occasionally by pure and simple bad luck—foreign operatives denied visas because of lost paperwork or key domestic militiamen arrested for domestic violence or assault and battery. Now that the operation was officially underway and the great machinery of war had been set in motion, he could no longer influence the timing of events. If his forces could not strike their primary target in concert with the attacks of their allies, they might not get another chance.
The decadent regime that held the reins of power in Washington was weak now due to years of ignorance and hubris. But he was not fool enough to think it would remain so after the first attack was launched. The advantage was his now, and he could not lose it.
He punched the number to leave a return message.
"Target location change immaterial. Plan and timetable unchanged."
CHAPTER TWENTY
C am stood in profile at the window, shafts of sunlight streaming around her body and highlighting the sculpted planes of her face. From her position in the doorway of Cam's bedroom, Blair thought her lover looked like a warrior goddess carved from gold. There was an utter stillness in her body and a distant expression on her face that Blair had come to recognize as Cam preparing herself for battle. This time, Blair knew, Cam was readying herself for whatever foe Blair might need to fight.
I love you for that look. I love you for being willing to face what comes next. I wish you didn 't have to, but I don't have the strength to sendyou away.
"Darling?" Blair murmured softly as she crossed the room.
Immediately, Cam turned from the vista she had not actually been surveying and greeted her lover with a smile. "Hey. All settled?" She held out her arm and drew Blair close, stroking Blair's back.
"I only unpacked a few things," Blair replied, curving into Cam's side. She slid a hand beneath Cam's jacket and rested it on the crest of her hip. "Just in case we're not staying."
"Are you ready?" It was 1150 and Blair's appointment with the breast specialist at Walter Reed Army Medical Center was scheduled for 1300. Cam had reviewed the itinerary with Mac on the short plane ride earlier that morning. The first team was waiting in front of her apartment building now.
"In just a minute." Blair shifted away and caught Cam's hand, drawing her to the sofa where they had made love only days before. Those few hours of peace and passion seemed very far away. Blair brushed the anger aside and focused on the present. "There's something I want to talk to you about before we leave."
Cam regarded Blair intently, searching the familiar cobalt blue eyes for signs of fear or withdrawal. Gratefully, she found neither. Since the previous afternoon when Blair had told her what was wrong, she had been half expecting Blair to try to push her away. That's what the woman she had met less than a year before would have done. Her relief at discovering that Blair trusted her to stay—trusted in the strength of their love—was profound. She took her lover's hand and cradled it between her own. "What is it?"
"I have some idea of what's going to happen this afternoon." Blair traced her thumb over the top of Cam's hand. Her voice was steady and calm. She was ready. The initial shock had finally dissipated and her strength of will had returned. She, too, was prepared for battle. "If the surgeon has the slightest doubt about what this might be, I want it out of my body."
"Yes. So do I." As far as Cam was concerned, the upcoming examination couldn't be done soon enough. It was as if she could see a bullet streaking toward Blair's body, and she couldn't do anything about it. She couldn't get in front of it, and she couldn't push Blair out of the way. Her helplessness was eating holes in her gut. If there was the slightest chance of an enemy within Blair's body, she wanted it killed. Dead. Destroyed. Immediately.
"There's something else I want you to know," Blair said quietly.
Cam brushed her fingertips over Blair's cheek. "Tell me."
"If this is cancer, there might be several treatment options." Blair watched Cam's eyes as she spoke. "But even if there are alternatives to surgery, I want a mastectomy."
"All right." Cam's expression never changed and her voice never wavered. "Whatever you want, as long as it's the best chance of cure."
"Apparently sometimes radiation therapy is as good as surgery, but there is always a small chance that another tumor could develop later on down the road. I don't want to face that, not after what happened to my mother."
Cam's throat tightened as she saw the pain swim in Blair's eyes. Voice husky, she said, "I understand."
"Cam...! saw what m
y father went through. I don't want you—"
"Don't," Cam said gently, brushing her thumb over Blair's lips. "We're not there yet—nowhere near thinking about that. And no matter what happens, I need you. And I need to be with you."
Closing her eyes, Blair pressed her cheek to Cam's hand. "God, I wish this wasn't happening."
"So do I, baby." Cam leaned forward and kissed Blair gently. "But let's find out what we're facing first. This may very well turn out to be nothing at all."
Blair nodded. "I know. But the numbers are not on my side-— if not now, five years from now, or ten, or twenty." She sighed and met Cam's eyes. "I've always known it. I just don't think about it."
"None of us can predict the future. The best we can do is make the most of the life we have." Cam kissed her again. "I love you so much, Blair."
With a small cry, Blair took Cam's face between her palms and found her mouth, taking the kiss deeper with almost desperate force. When she drew away, tears danced on her lashes. "I count on it. I count on you. I never imagined having anyone like you in my life."
Cam kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her mouth, tenderly but with trembling intensity. "I feel like I was born to love you. Just let me, and I'll be happy."
With a shaky laugh, Blair threaded her arms around Cam's waist and pressed into her. "As if I could help it."
A trim redhead in a United States Army uniform bearing the insignia of a lieutenant colonel stepped into the spare, functional office and crossed the gray carpet to where Blair sat in one of the two chairs facing a plain, dark wood desk. Cam sat beside her. Extending a hand to Blair, the woman said, "Ms. Powell, I'm Dr. Leah Saunders."
"How you do, Dr. Saunders," Blair replied, shaking the doctor's hand. She indicated Cam, "My partner, Agent Cameron Roberts."
"Doctor," Cam said as she shook Dr. Saunders's hand as well.
After the introductions, the surgeon walked around behind her desk and sat down. She slid a plain manila folder to the center of the dark green leather blotter and picked up a nearby pen. As she opened the folder, she met Blair's eyes. "I need to get some medical history before we proceed to the examination. I have your basic data here, so we can concentrate on the present problem."
"Of course." Blair's throat felt dry but her voice was steady.
"You're concerned about a lump in your left breast?"
"Yes."
"When did you first notice this?"
"Three days ago."
"Any tenderness or history of trauma to the area?"
"No. I just happened to feel it while I was showering."
The doctor scribbled a note. "Have you ever had any problems with your breasts previously—lumps, drainage from the nipple, rashes on the skin?"
"No, never."
"Have you ever had a mammogram?"
"No."
Again, Dr. Saunders paused to enter the information. Then she looked up, her eyes intently focused but her expression kind. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't order a mammogram on someone your age. However, given the family history, if it turns out you do have a palpable lesion, I'd like to image both breasts just for completion's sake."
"Yes," Blair replied quietly. "That would be fine."
"Are you having any other health issues I should be aware of?" At Blair's negative head shake, Dr. Saunders added, "Any medications or drugs of any kind?"
"No."
"Okay." Dr. Saunders stood and gestured to a door on the opposite side of the room. "The examination room is this way. I'll have a nurse bring you a gown, and then I'll be in in a few minutes. Your partner is welcome to accompany you."
"Thank you." Blair reached for Cam's hand, and together they followed the surgeon.
In less than five minutes, Blair was naked from the waist up, covered only by a thin paper gown, and seated on a vinyl-covered examination table. Dr. Saunders arrived, washed her hands rapidly in the sink in one corner, and turned to Blair.
"All set?"
"Yes." Blair looked past the surgeon to Cam and smiled weakly.
Cam stood just inside the door of the ten-by-ten-foot white tiled room as the surgeon instructed Blair to lie down, sit up, and raise her arms while she observed and palpated Blair's breasts. As she watched the examination, sweat broke out between Cam's shoulder blades, although the room was not overly warm. She'd never seen Blair's eyes quite so blank before, as if her body was present but her mind was somewhere else. The surgeon was proficient and professional and apparently gentle, but Cam couldn't help but see Blair as victimized by the entire process. She clenched her fists at her sides and fought back the surge of fury. She had no one with whom to be angry and nowhere to vent her frustration.
"You can close your gown now," Dr. Saunders said as she stepped back. She waited for Blair to retie the paper strips that held the gown closed before she continued. "You have a one-centimeter density in the upper outer quadrant of your left breast."
Blair's face registered no change. Cam's stomach turned over, but she forced herself to listen.
"It's in an area of the breast where many women your age normally have unusually dense tissue. However, this is a discrete mass and warrants further evaluation."
"What kind of evaluation?" Blair asked in a low, controlled tone.
"The mammogram, first of all. I want to be sure there aren't any other abnormalities that I can't feel."
The doctor's tone was matter-of-fact and straightforward. Nothing she'd said so far surprised Blair. She'd known from the first instant that what she felt in her breast was not her imagination. She had read about the disease, lectured about the disease, and lived through it, even though at the time of her mother's illness, she had not understood all the nuances of treatment. "And then?"
"Assuming that nothing else shows up on the films, that area needs to be biopsied."
As Dr. Saunders spoke, Cam stepped around her and moved to Blair's side. She rested her hand at the small of Blair's back; on top of the baby-blue paper gown. Beneath her fingers, she felt her lover tremble. Cam asked quietly, "What if the mammogram is normal? Does she still need the biopsy?"
"Good question," Dr. Saunders replied. "The answer is yes, because a mammogram is not 100 percent accurate. Even if it's normal, in the presence of a discrete palpable mass, a biopsy is still indicated." She looked from Cam to Blair. "I could do a needle, aspiration biopsy here in the office. It's simple and relatively painless. The problem is it will only sample a small portion of the mass. If it comes back normal, we can't be sure that there isn't an adjacent area of abnormality which the needle biopsy missed."
Blair didn't hesitate. "I want it out. All of it."
"Very well," the surgeon said. "I'll arrange for the mammogram this afternoon to be certain that there are no problems in the rest of the breast or the right side. We'll plan on an open biopsy of the left breast at 7:00 a.m. tomorrow morning. I'll need to make a small incision directly over the lesion. You'll be sedated, but not completely anesthetized. The incision will be about an inch long. It will leave a scar, but it shouldn't be too noticeable given time."
"Yes. That's fine."
For the first time, Dr. Saunders looked the slightest bit uneasy. "Ms. Powell, would you like me to brief your father?"
Blair met the surgeon's eyes. "I'd rather he not know right now."
After a second's hesitation, the surgeon nodded. "If you leave your phone number with my secretary, I'll call you as soon as I've reviewed the mammogram. Someone will be by in just a few minutes to give you instructions regarding the surgery tomorrow and to take you to radiology. Do either of you have any questions?"
"No. Thank you," Blair said quietly.
Cam shook her head.
"I'll speak to you later then."
As soon as Dr. Saunders left, Blair let out a long breath and leaned into Cam's side. "Well."
Cam wrapped her arm around Blair's shoulder and kissed the top of her head. "Are you okay?"
"I guess so. It's what I expected." Blair closed her ey
es and pressed her cheek to Cam's chest. "I'm so glad you're here."
"Me, too," Cam whispered.
Renee glanced around the still-unfamiliar apartment. Like Stark, it was neat and tidy. And like her, here and there were surprising touches of sweetness. A hand-embroidered pillow on the sofa bearing the words "Home is where the heart is." It looked like something done by a grade-schooler, and Renee was willing to bet it was a gift from some friend or family member. The fact that Stark actually kept it out was testament to how tender at heart she was. A small, carefully tended aquarium filled with colorful fish sat on an ornate pedestal table in one corner of the room. A list of specific instructions as to the care and feeding of the inhabitants sat nearby with an assortment of food and medicinal agents. Obviously, some friend or neighbor looked after them when Stark was away on assignment. For some reason, the touching attention that Stark paid to these small creatures stirred Renee's heart.
You are such a sweetheart God, how did I ever find you?
As if in answer, Renee's cell phone rang and the readout indicated it was Stark. With a quick smile, Renee answered. "Hey! I was just thinking of you,"
"How you doing? Are you home?"
Home. Renee glanced around the apartment. She'd unpacked the suitcases she'd brought from her sister's. There was very little else of hers in the apartment, other than a few books that she'd acquired during her convalescence. Is that what this is? Home? Am I ready for that?
"I just got in," Renee said quickly. "How about you?"
"I'm at the hotel. Probably in for the night."
"How long will you be there?"
"I'm not sure," Stark said pensively. "For some reason, we're in an information blackout. I don't even know what we're doing in the morning. The commander is assembling the first team at 0530 for a briefing."
"Just the first team?" Renee asked curiously. "That's not SOP, is it?"
"No. Usually the whole team gets briefed on the complete itinerary and schedule for several days in advance." Stark was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "We spent all afternoon at Walter Reed. Just the first team."
