A Butler's Duty

By AJ

Part 9 Taking Care of Those You Love

Dick Grayson's fever reached its peak then broke some time during the night. Bruce was aware of it since he was holding onto his son. He could feel hi son's body shake with chills then go still as his temperature climbed once more. Bruce forced a fever reducer down his son's throat, coaxing him with water to wash it down. Within a couple of hours the medication did its work, and his son was bathed in sweat. Bruce got up from the bed and retrieved a dry shirt once he retrieved a damp towel, wiping the sweat from the teen's body, being careful not to irritate the welts on his back. Being able to see them in daylight, they weren't as red and irritated as before. Bathing them in the shower helped to draw out the infection. The antibiotic will do the rest.

Dick stirred as Bruce administered to his son. Dick's eyes opened and he was watching Bruce move about the room gathering items and placing them where they had easy access.

'I thought I was dreaming. It really was Bruce holding me . . . taking care of me.'

Bruce turned to see Dick was watching him. He came over to the bed, knelt down and brushed a hand through his still damp hair. "Hey, Chum, how you feeling?"

"Tired, but a little hungry."

"I'll see about getting us some food," Bruce thought. 'If our 'host' will allow it. He probably knows by now we've switched rooms.'

"Bruce, what happened?" Dick asked. "I mean, who's done this?"

Bruce pursed his lips and debated on whether to keep some of the truth back, but it wouldn't be fair to Dick. He suffered at the hands of someone he didn't know, they both have in a way. At least as crime fighters, they knew who their enemies were, sometimes on a daily basis. The man, however, had done his homework and Bruce was wishing he had access to the bat computer to learn just whom it was they were dealing with. "I don't know who's doing this," Bruce started. "I do know he wants Alfred."

"Alfred, why?"

"What do you know of Alfred's past?" Bruce asked.

"Alfred's told me stories. He told me that he worked for MI6 for a short time, but I . . . I'm afraid I didn't believe them," Dick said sheepishly. "He just didn't seem like the type . . . "

"Dick, where did you think he learned all that he knows?" Bruce chided though not harshly. Dick was a naive 13-year-old, and it was time that he learned a few more things, this time about their third silent member of the team.

"Alfred, before he came back to Wayne Manor did a lot of things to increase his knowledge," Bruce started out.

"I know his training as a medic . . ." Dick said. "But the other stuff . . ."

"Dick, Alfred is more than he seems. The man that abducted us is from his past . . . even I might not be fully aware of what all Alfred has done in his life. I remember when I was a boy, pretending as all boys do with some of their toys, at one point I thought about becoming a spy, having read a lot of Ian Flemming's books. Alfred mentioned that being a spy wasn't as glamorous as Flemming made them out to be."

"Holy James Bond," Dick's eyes became wide. "Do you mean to tell me that Alfred really . . ."

"Looks like it. For now, we need to get you feeling better. I'm going to need your help in finding the radio room. I know it's somewhere in the center of the ship, but getting to it may take a little diversion and some finesse."

The phone rang at that moment. Dick froze while Bruce went over to answer it.

"Yeah."

"Just to let you know, there is no place on this ship that you can go that I won't know about. Remember my warning."

The line was cut and Bruce hung up the phone.

"Bruce?" Dick's brow furrowed after seeing his guardian's face. "Are you all right?"

Bruce couldn't divulge about the threat to Dick's life. It was just too horrible a thought. It was why he held onto Dick last night. The fear that Dick would be taken from him in the middle of the night if he were to loosen his grip invaded his dreams as a nightmare where Bruce watched Dick being tossed overboard, thrown to a group of circling sharks. Bruce clutched onto Dick so tightly, he feared he might have cracked one of Dick's ribs. He examined Dick quickly and only found some additional bruising along with what he already suffered. Bruce felt bad about the addition to Dick's injuries, but they couldn't be helped. They would deal with them when they had a chance.

"Bruce, tell me what's going on?"

"Our 'host' threatened . . ." Bruce turned his back, not wanting Dick to see the anguish and the helplessness he was feeling at that moment. He knew Dick would be able to read it in his face.

"I'll go see if I can find us something to eat," Bruce said, changing the subject. "Lock the door. You know my signal."

Dick followed Bruce to the door though a little unsteady on his feet, puzzled why Bruce would cut himself off in mid sentence, but he did as Bruce instructed, locking the door to wait for his return. Something was wrong. He never heard such fear in Bruce's voice before, despite him trying to hide it. Looking toward the porthole, Dick made his way to the back wall and opened the small round window. He let in the fresh air feeling the breeze coming off the water. It was a warm breeze and the sun was bright and blinding, and yet there was something about the position of the ship that intrigued him. Maybe it was the position of the waves or maybe it was the fact that what shadow the ship was casting didn't appear quite right in his mind. He wasn't sure what time of day it was and that made it harder to figure out. Bruce had been teaching him how to tell time from the position of the sun and how shadows were cast on the ground. Maybe it was because they were on a ship and moving . . . That's it. They were moving in relation to the land, the sun, and that's why the shadows were falling the way they were. The sun was also . . . Where was the sun? It usually rose in the eastern sky, but that was usually early between 6 and 7 am, but it felt later than that. If he could figure out where the sun was in relation to where that shadow was, he might be able to discover what direction they were heading.

Bruce's private knock came and Dick headed toward the door only nearly falling when his knees buckled. He barely made it to the door to open it. Bruce had a cart of food. He pushed it into the room as Dick opened the door a little wider. As Dick closed the door, he couldn't keep from sliding to the floor.

"Dick?"

"I . . . I . . . don't think I should have gotten out of bed," Dick let his body slip to the floor. "Ohhhh, somebody stop the room from moving."

Bruce chuckled at Dick's choice of words. "That's a little hard to do when you're on a ship."

"Oh . . . yeah . . . sorry," Dick replied sheepishly realizing the pun he just made.

The food cart forgotten, Bruce moved over to Dick and carefully lifted him into his arms, trying to be careful of his back. He checked his temperature and realized Dick hadn't had a fever reducer since last night and also an antibiotic. "We better get some medication in you and then some food. I brought some soup for you as well as some bread. We need to get your strength up."

Dick allowed Bruce to place him back in bed then to give him some soup on a tray with some bread. Beside the bowl were the medications that Bruce insisted Dick take before eating.

"I think you should rest more for today. By tomorrow, you should feel even better."

"Bruce, could you tell me where the sun is?"

"The sun? It's overhead why?"

"Would you say it's close to eleven or noon or one?"

Bruce realized what Dick was asking. "It's toward noon."

'I was right. We're heading southward,' Dick thought.

"Did you discover something when I was gone?"

"I think I know where we're heading," Dick answered with a cheeky grin.

"Well, tell me youngster, before I confine you to this bed for two days," Bruce grinned with a twinkle in his eye. He couldn't help feel a little pride over what his son had discovered.

"I think we're heading to the Caribbean."

"The Islands? I wonder which one."

"It can't be any of the populated ones," Dick surmised. "We'd be seeing more ships."

"You might be right," Bruce conceded, "What made you think about where we were?"

"I was in here yesterday, trying to hide and I looked out the porthole. At first I saw nothing but dark water until I saw there was an edge of brighter water. I remembered that I must have been looking at a shadow and it was early morning. And when I saw it today, the shadow was different."

Bruce nodded his head, 'Very good deduction,' Bruce thought "So what do you think our next move should be?"

"Find a way to contact Alfred," Dick replied.

Bruce chuckled. They were on the same wavelength. "Let's get down to strategizing. I have a feeling we won't have much time. And Alfred may end up needing our help."

Continues with Part 10