Madam President (54 page)

Blue eyes went round. "Oh, boy."
I'll bet she's been giving the doctor hell. Heh. Good girl.
"Laur-" Dev paused and slipped off her mask, stuffing it into her pocket. "Lauren, it's me."

"Dev?"

"Yup. Can I come in?" Dev had just begun to turn the handle when Lauren's voice stopped her.

"No."

Dark eyebrows lifted. "What do you mean no?" she asked impatiently. "I want to see you!"

"No. Go away!" A pause. The next time Lauren spoke her voice had softened. "I'm not fit to be seen, darlin'. And you might catch it."

Dev narrowed her eyes at the door, wishing she had X-ray vision. "I don't give a damn what you look like; I want to come in!" She leaned her forehead against the cool wood. "Don't make me order an air strike."

Lauren chuckled, but sobered quickly. Could this be a trick? "You don't have a needle with you, do you?"

Dev rolled her eyes. "Gee, I knew I was forgetting something. Ever since I got over that pesky crack habit, I've been fresh out."

"Very funny. Okay."

Thank God
, Dev thought as she began to turn the knob.

"You can come in as long as you don't laugh."

Dev stopped, then bit her lip.
I will not laugh. I will not laugh.
The President opened the door, took one look at Lauren, and burst out laughing. "Oh, God, I'm sorry."

Lauren's wavy, shoulder-length hair was sticking up wildly in all directions. She was wearing a pair of old, gray sweats and an oversized T-shirt that swallowed up her compact body, making her look like a little girl. Her skin was slightly pale except for the speckling of bright red dots that covered every inch of exposed skin. One hand was roaming her body, scratching as furiously as her fingers would allow. She was wrapped in a sheet and wearing the absolutely most pathetic face Dev had ever seen. Well, when she walked in it was pathetic. Ever since she'd laughed, Lauren just looked pissed.

"Kill, Gremlin!" Lauren shouted. "Attack! Eat her!"

Gremlin was lying on the floor at the foot of Lauren's bed. To his credit, he did look up at the President in response to his mistress' command. Unfortunately, all he could muster was a weak growl and a big yawn. Fatherhood was even more taxing than the activity that got him in that position to begin with.

Dev took the time to shoot the pooch a disgusted look before smiling sympathetically at her sick friend. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You just look so adorable, I couldn't help but laugh." The murderous glare in Lauren's eyes let Dev know the writer wasn't buying it, and she sat down on the edge of the tall bed, close to Lauren, but not touching her. "I missed you. I love you," she said softly.

Lauren's gaze immediately softened, and she sighed. "I love you too." She shook her head sadly. "You're going to continue to make it impossible for me to stay angry with you, aren't you?"

A satisfied smile worked its way across Dev's lips. "Basically." She reached up to smooth back a lock of golden hair only to have Lauren duck out of her way.

"Devlyn! You can't touch me!"

"Wanna bet?"

Lauren blew out an exasperated breath. "I don't want you to get sick."

Dev shrugged one shoulder. "And I can't not touch you. Not anymore."

Lauren's heart melted at the words. She looked up into honest eyes and felt herself fall a little bit more in love with this amazing woman. "I'm so glad you're home," she whispered.

"Me too."

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Lauren could see something lurking behind Dev's eyes. She knew Dev was upset about the people who had been killed when the FBI raided the Brothers of Freedom compound. David had told her that Dev had taken the deaths of the children especially hard, which didn't surprise Lauren in the least. It was a horrible waste. These months of getting to know and love the Marlowe children had driven that point home.

With a morbid streak that surprised even Washington insiders, the Press had relentlessly harped on that aspect of events during Dev's tour of the bombing sites. They assigned the blame to Dev and the Attorney General, and the nation followed right along with them. The tall woman appeared to take it all in her stride, patiently answering question after question about every detail of the raid, and every decision she had made concerning it. But even on television, Lauren easily spotted the lines of tension that etched Dev's normally open face, and the wariness in her usually unguarded personality. Especially when a reporter would mention Lisa and Brian Lindsay.

"Are you okay?" they both asked simultaneously. They smiled.

"I'm okay, Lauren. It wasn't a fun trip. But it needed to be done. I'm just glad it's over."

Lauren ached to hug her friend, and felt her frustration building over the fact that she couldn't. Then an idea came to her. She scooted down by Gremlin and picked up a small blanket that had been tossed across the foot of her bed. The shorter woman grabbed it and shook it open.

"What? Phft! Phft!" Lauren threw the blanket over Dev, covering her upper body completely and cutting off her words. Before she could say anything else she felt strong arms wrap around her and squeeze her tightly. Dev closed her eyes in pleasure, instantly returning the comforting embrace. "Damn, I needed that."

"So did I."

Dev frowned at the unusual heat she could feel coming from Lauren. "You have a fever," she pointed out flatly.

"A little one. Yes." Lauren shifted in Dev's arms as Dev's fingers grazed her back.
Ooooo...
Jesus, that feels good!
She moved again, this time pressing her shoulder into Dev's and wiggling it.

Dev looked a little alarmed. "Uh, Lauren?"

Lauren threw her head back. "Ooooooo, yeah."

The President sucked in a breath, immediately aroused by Lauren's low groan. When Lauren's movements grew more frantic, Dev finally caught a clue. "Oh, no, you don't! I'm not a scratching post." With firm hands she pushed the smaller woman away.

"Pleeeeeeeease," Lauren begged. "I'm itching everywhere!"

"No." Dev shook her head from under the blanket before pulling it off. "I can't."

"Yes, Devlyn," Lauren said seriously. She pinned the President with stone hard, gray eyes. "You can. For the love of God, scratch my back. I
need
you to scratch it."

Dev tried not to think about how sexy and cute Lauren looked when she begged. She loved her; she could overlook the bright red dots. "I won't."
And I'd die before I put one mark on your beautiful skin. Well, normally beautiful.

"Puuuuhleeeeez," Lauren whined pathetically. With a loud moan, she flopped backwards on the bed and began moving around like a fish out of water, trying to get to a spot between her shoulder blades.

"No." Dev rose to her feet. "Get the shot the boys got, and you'll feel better," she explained reasonably.

"Shot? A needle stabbing into my flesh, and a foreign liquid forced into my body?" Lauren made a face. "Are you insane?"

"Most likely. But that's not the point." Deciding it was safe to be near Lauren, just not on the bed with her, Dev knelt in front of the bed. Shivering in revulsion as she caught a glimpse of one of the puppies that had wandered out from under the bed, Dev scooted closer. "I just want you to feel better, sweetheart."

"I want that too, Devlyn. But you know how I feel about needles."

Dev smiled affectionately. "I know, but it will just be a small one."

Lauren regarded her skeptically. "How small?"

"Tiny. Barely noticeable."

"And it will stop the itching?"

"Or your money back," Dev finished lamely.

Lauren's head swayed back and forth as she considered her options. Three more days of itching until she went insane. Or the shot. This was a really tough call.

"You know," a leer transformed Dev's face, "once you start feeling better, I'd love to scratch an itch of a
different
kind."

Dead silence.

"Call the doctor."

Sunday, September 12
^th

"So?" Dev settled down on a bench in the White House sculpture garden. The afternoon was sunny and crisp. A gentle breeze blew across the lawn, bringing with it the scent of wet grass. Dev raised her arm in a familiar manner, inviting Lauren to snuggle into her. The movement still caused a dull pain in her shoulder muscles, but the President considered the closeness of the position well worth the discomfort. "Are you feeling better? Her eyes lighted on a delicate metal windmill sculpture that moved with every gale. "You look great, Lauren. I'd never even know you'd been sick."

Lauren didn't care that they were outside, and instead of snuggling next to the tall woman, she laid her head in Dev's lap, stretching out on what was left of the bench. "I feel soooo much better. The doctor gave me a clean bill of health this morning. No more fever, no more itching. I'm even glad I had that shot," she admitted somewhat sheepishly. "It made the last five days bearable."

Dev gently combed her fingers through Lauren's hair, rolling its heavy strands between her fingertips. "I'm glad you're feeling better." Dev frowned. "I've discovered that I hate it when you're sick, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"Nothing you can do about it?" Lauren snorted quietly as she absorbed the warm sunshine and Dev's interested gaze with idle pleasure. "Yeah, right. And I suppose everyone has Bethesda's best doctor making house calls for the chickenpox."

"Well, I..." Dev's face colored, and she looked off into the distance. "I just wanted you to be okay."

"You're sweet." The writer tangled her fingers with Dev's free hand. "So," she gave the hand she was holding a little tug and let out a slightly nervous breath. "Now that I'm feeling better, and we're allowed to talk about the tough stuff, how are you really doing, Devlyn?"

Dev remained very still, then shrugged a little. "I'm okay."

A slender, pale eyebrow arched. "Don't, Devlyn," she said with quiet finality. "After all these months, I know better."

The President looked down and regarded Lauren seriously. She was met with a direct gaze. "You do, don't you?"

"Yes." A tiny smile curled red lips. And she gave Dev a playful poke, drawing her out. "So tell me. How are you doing?"

Dev sighed so deeply it was nearly a groan. "How am I supposed to be doing?" she bit out harshly. "I got innocent women and children killed. I hurt like hell."

Lauren chose her words carefully. "You didn't get anyone killed."

"I did!" Dev insisted. "I sent in the FBI. I gave the order." She swallowed hard. "I knew they were in there. I knew those bastards had women and children in there. And, God help me, I did it anyway. Two babies died that morning. The little boy, Brian, was caught in the crossfire and shot in the chest. The little girl, Lisa, died from smoke inhalation when the west wing of the compound caught fire."

Dev's chin began to quiver, and Lauren felt her heart break. Lauren sat up and looked at Dev, meeting watery blue eyes with her own. The younger woman gently cupped Dev's cheeks with both hands, dropping a soft kiss on her lips, before slowly gently pulling back, waiting patiently for her to continue.