A/N Nobody die from shock. It's just a new chapter.

Chapter 23

Rick smiled. "Hello, Miss Somerville," he said, and then his body crumpled and he fell forward.

Somerville caught him, staggering under the weight, and Alex hurried to help her.

"Lay him down here," the older woman directed, straightening one of the pallets. "What happened?"

"A band of paramilitaries attacked our compound this morning. Well," Alex realized, "maybe yesterday morning. Rick got shot, trying to help me and Dr. Marquez, who is now God only knows where. Oh," he remembered, "he also jumped through a window."

Somerville snorted and Alex looked at her in surprise. "It's not funny!"

"The last time I encountered Mr. Grayson he was jumping from a balcony in Wayne Manor, convinced he could fly," she told him.

"Wait." Alex stared at her. "You're the social worker, aren't you? They told me about that incident, and Alfred said you got the tutor fired."

It impossible to read her face in the dim light, but Alex thought she sounded pleased as she answered, "It seems I left an impression."

"By the way," Alex said hastily as he caught sight of the boy returning with the medical kit, "they don't know who he is. I told them he was the son of a maid in Wayne Manor. That was the identity he came into the country with."

Somerville nodded and then the older woman said, "From what I can tell, he's a very lucky young man. Half an inch higher and the bullet would have shattered the bone, but it just tore through the underarm flesh. He's lost a lot of blood, but with rest and nutrition, and if we can keep infection out, he'll be fine."

It was only then that Alex realized just how tense and panicked he had been. His knees gave way and he collapsed into a huddled heap on the ground. He thought he might cry, and he grit his teeth in an attempt to choke back the tears.

He heard voices around him, and then someone laid a hand on his shoulder and held a steaming tin mug beneath his nose. "Try this. It'll steady your nerves," Somerville said kindly as he took the cup.

The brew was bitter and strong, but after a few scalding swallows, he did feel better. Looking around, he saw that Somerville was holding the lantern over Rick's shoulder, while the older woman, who was evidently the doctor the guerillas had promised, worked on the wound. The boy sat just outside the mosquito netting, watching with interest.

Alex's cup had been empty for some time before the doctor sat back on her heels and declared, "If he's got any constitution at all, he'll pull through." She looked at Alex inquiringly.

"He's pretty healthy," he told her.

"Good." She packed up the kit and pushed it out the door to the boy. "Go on," she ordered. "Tell the teniente I didn't steal anything." The boy grinned and scurried off.

"I suppose we should introduce ourselves." The doctor squatted next to Alex and offered her hand. "Dr. Nina Jenkins."

"Dr. Alex Peaceable," he answered, shaking her hand. "Ph.D., not M.D."

"Yes, you mentioned Gabriel Marquéz. I met him once. He's an interesting man."

"He is that." Alex sighed. "I hope he's all right."

"You said paramilitaries attacked your compound?" Somerville asked from where she still knelt next to Richard.

"Yes."

"Did they take other hostages?"

"I don't know. There was an elderly caretaker and his wife, and their three grandchildren, but I didn't see any of them."

"If they weren't alive when you left," Somerville said matter-of-factly, "how long will it be before anyone knows you're missing?"

The question had crossed Alex's mind several times during the interminable truck ride, but he had no good answer. "I'm not expecting a call from the States until the end of the week. The compound is isolated—we only get grocery deliveries once a month." Lowering his voice to be sure it wouldn't carry past their lean-to, Alex asked, "What is our situation? The men who attacked our kidnappers told us we'd been, uh, rescued."

"If you're asking whether you're better off in the hands of FARC than with a paramilitary gang, the answer is yes," Nina answered. "If you're asking whether you can go home tomorrow, however, I can only tell you that I've been a guest with FARC for four years."

"That's because you patch their bullet holes so well," Somerville interjected.

"I may find their politics reprehensible, but I'm not going to let them bleed to death in front of me."

"I didn't say you should," Somerville mildly replied.

Alex sensed an old battle, long debated between the two women. "Miss Somerville, how long have you been a, uh, guest?"

"It's Cecilia. A year and a half, I think, but the months I was down with malaria are a little hazy."

"The prospects are better for the two of you," Nina said encouragingly. "My mission organization has a no ransom policy, so I'm more useful to them here. You and Richard, however, may have significant cash value."

"We do," Alex affirmed. At least, he hoped Wayne would front the ransom for both of them. He didn't think Alfred would let the playboy leave him stranded in the rainforest.

Cecilia sat cross-legged in front of the lean-to, her three fellow hostages sound asleep behind her. She dragged on her cigarette, trying to smoke it slowly because her stash was running low. She would have to talk a couple of the guards into another card game before she smoked away all her stakes.

So. Richard Grayson.

He was so changed that she had almost failed to recognize him. But there was something about the way his clear gaze had held hers and the impishness of that smile that was unmistakable, and she knew that he was the same strong-hearted boy she remembered.

It made her glad, and for a minute she recalled the few good memories of that nightmare visit to Gotham.

But on the whole, there were approximately five billion people on the planet she would have rather have seen marched into camp. The problem wasn't Richard. The problem was who would be coming after him.

Most parents would contact the experts. They'd follow every piece of advice about hostage negotiation, and if all went well, they'd get their child, the guerillas would get their money, and everyone would go home.

If. If everything went well. It might not. Bruce Wayne would find the risk unacceptable. He would come himself, with his formidable fighting skills, his cutting edge technology, his endless resources. And all hell would break loose.

It was possible, of course, that he would succeed in being discreet, that he could silently extract his ward and reappear in Gotham City, no one the wiser. But Cecilia had spent a year and a half as a prisoner in the deep jungle, and she didn't think even Bruce Wayne was capable of finding one small group of rebels in millions of acres of impenetrable forest.

All hell was most certainly going to break loose.

Rick blinked at the blue plastic sheet over his head and tried to remember where he was before the pain in his shoulder killed him (if the headache didn't do it first). Doing his best to take his focus off the agony, he struggled to bring up his most recent memories. He distinctly recalled a gunman on the point of shooting Alex, and he rather thought he'd jumped through a window. And then …

I got shot.

That explained why his shoulder felt gripped by flaming hot pincers. Now he remembered that getting shot had been followed by a long truck ride, and then shooting and another journey. He'd gotten that far when a brisk voice asked, "Well, young man, how are you feeling?" The wrinkled face of a woman moved into his view.

Rick opened his mouth, but the only sound he could make was a dry rasping. The woman picked up a canteen and unscrewed the top, then gently tilted his head so he could drink. "Slowly," she warned, and Rick obeyed, letting the water seep over his tongue to the back of his throat. "How do you feel?" she tried again, when he had swallowed several sips.

"Ok," he managed.

She frowned. "Young man, in addition to being your physician, I am old enough to be your grandmother. Don't lie to me. How does your shoulder feel?"

"Bad," he admitted. "Head too."

"That sounds more likely." She held a different cup to his lips. He made a face at the bitter taste, but she insisted that he drink. "Coca tea is the best I can do for an anesthetic at the moment. It's no morphine, but it's something." Rick obeyed, and as he sipped at the cup, he felt a haze drop over his pain. It was definitely still there, but it felt as though a small gap had opened between his mind and the hurt.

"He's awake?" a voice over his head asked, and then Somerville knelt on the ground beside him. He grinned at her, and her eyebrows shot up. "How strong did you brew the tea?" she asked Nina.

"Strong."

Somerville picked up the cup, sniffed it, and grimaced. "The teniente has a stash of the processed stuff. I could probably talk him out of a dose or two."

Nina shook her head, looking dour. "He's young. Better he take the pain than that poison."

"Hope I never get shot," Somerville muttered, setting the cup back down. "Richard, I need to ask you some questions."

"Ok!" he said brightly.

She bent her head and lowered her voice. "Do you have any idea what Wayne's going to do?"

That was something he'd thought about on the long truck ride. "He'll come." Rick was sure about that.

Somerville sighed. "I know. But do you know how? Does he have any way of finding you?"

He'd left all of his hi-tech gear in Gotham. "Nope."

"What was the emergency plan?"

Rick thought back to that last conversation on the way to airport. "He said as long as no one knew who I was, I'd be fine, that Dr. Marquéz lived in a very peaceful part of Colombia. But that if anything did happen, I should use my head and sit tight."

"Brilliant advice," she snarled. "What the hell was he thinking?"

Rick shrugged, unable to feel bothered. "Beats me."

Four nights later, Alex lay on his back, unable to sleep. In the dark jungle, frogs shrieked and millions of insects clicked and whirred, a continuous background buzz that he'd gotten used to except during these dreary nighttime hours, when the horror of their situation pressed on him most heavily.

At least Rick was doing better. Dr. Nina's strict care had thus far kept infection at bay, and although the boy still slept a lot, his appetite was good. Alex suspected he was still in a lot of pain, but he never complained. Today, he had roamed the tiny camp with Juan, the youngest of the rebel group, chatting with the men lounging around the fire. I swear, he could make friends in a snake pit, Alex thought.

Life in the rebel camp had immediately settled into a routine. They were fed twice a day and allowed to go down to the river each morning to wash. They were also allowed to roam the clearing with relative impunity, although "clearing" was too generous of a word. The rebels had cleared back the undergrowth and cut down the small saplings in a rough circle that was no more than thirty feet across. But all around the perimeter, mighty trees stretched out their branches, creating an impenetrable canopy overhead. The one time Alex had ventured too near the border of their small space, a sentry had immediately motioned him back. "It's dangerous out there," the man had warned with an ingratiating smile, but Alex had his own suspicions about where the true danger lay.

His thoughts turned to their fellow prisoners. Dr. Nina was, from beginning to end, a godsend. Aside from her expertise in patching up bullet holes (something she'd practiced a lot during her four years as a hostage), her calm demeanor and blunt common sense had done more than anything else to keep Alex from devolving into a state of permanent panic. Cecilia Somerville was harder to read. She spoke little and often sat huddled in the lean-to as though she lacked the energy to move. But Alex had noticed that her eyes constantly followed the movements of the camp, particularly Richard's. The morning after their arrival, she had asked Alex about Richard's presence in Colombia. He'd given her the bare facts about the Bailey shooting, and she had sat in contemplative silence, staring at the cloud of smoke from her cigarette.

At last she had asked, "But why did Wayne send him here?"

"Because I was here," Alex said simply. "He knows I only want what's best for Rick."

"And Richard trusts you."

"Yes."

She let another lungful of smoke trail from her mouth before she asked, "But why did Wayne send him away?"

At first Alex was hurt, not understanding the difference in the question. He was about to defend his own importance in Rick's life, when he realized she wasn't asking about him at all, but about Bruce Wayne. Cecilia kept her eyes on her cigarette while he thought, but when he finally answered, she watched his face. He had the uncomfortable feeling that she read more there than he meant to reveal.

"I don't think Mr. Wayne could handle the emotional stress."

She smiled faintly. "You don't like him."

"Do you?" he flung back.

Her smile deepened. "I can't stand him."

Alex felt a surge of kinship. "I know what you mean," he said impulsively. "And Rick deserves better."

"That's why you stay? To offer Richard a more positive role model?"

It was, but Alex felt faintly embarrassed. "It's not that I think I'm particularly wonderful…"

He trailed off as she waved a dismissive hand. "Don't apologize, I understand." She was still smiling as she took the last drag on her cigarette and dropped the butt to the ground. "That must drive him absolutely crazy," she murmured, laughing at some private joke.

A rustling of undergrowth, just loud enough to be heard over the jungle noises, pulled Alex out of his thoughts. He strained to see through the darkness, and after a moment, a small, dim light appeared on the far side of the clearing. It was hard to see, but Alex thought that three, possibly four people had emerged from the jungle. They moved toward the teniente's lean-to, where the light paused, then moved rapidly toward the prisoners' shelter. Alex saw that it was a man with a shaded flashlight before he shut his eyes. Through his eyelids, he saw the beam of light move over him. Bed check, he thought. Whoever just came in must be important. After a moment, he heard the man striding away.

Reopening his eyes, he that two tiny red dots now glowed in the teniente's lean-to. Two people smoking. The teniente and one important guest. He was straining his ears to hear the murmur of voices over the frogs when something nudged the edge of his pallet. Alex turned his head to see a dark figure slipping beneath the mosquito netting and fading silently into the darkness. Apparently, Cecilia was also interested in the mystery guest.

Cecilia was sitting in her usual spot in the lean-to when Alex squatted next to her. "Hear anything interesting last night?" he asked conversationally.

She had suspected he was awake last night as she slipped out, and had pondered how much to tell him. Now, after double checking that all other members of the camp were out of earshot, she said, "You're leaving tomorrow. They've arranged an exchange with the government for one of their own people."

Alex grinned in delight. "That's great! Wait." His smile was replaced by a worried frown. "You said one of their people. There are two of us."

"Richard stays," she answered softly, her eyes on one of the guerillas who had altered his path to walk towards them. Alex opened his mouth to protest, and she pinched his arm. Hard. "Don't fight them," she murmured. "Nina and I will take care of the boy." Then the guard was within earshot, and she said more loudly, "You think this is hot? You should have been here last summer, right Geraldo?"

The guerilla laughed and started telling a story about last year's incredible heat. Alex held his tongue, although Cecilia could read his worry in his face. She hoped that he wasn't going to be difficult.

Rick sat staring into the fire, remembering the sight of Alex's back disappearing into the jungle.

"He'll be all right," Miss Somerville said quietly, squatting next to him. "FARC wants their man back."

Rick frowned and jabbed his stick harder into the fire. "I should be with him."

"He's safer without you," she said bluntly. "He has only himself to worry about now, and frankly, if anyone finds out the truth you'll be a very dangerous companion." The end of his stick caught flame and Rick held it up like a torch. Somerville pulled out a cigarette. "Light this for me?" He held the small flame toward her and she lit her cigarette, then sat cross legged on the ground. "Dr. Peaceable will be fine."

Rick shook his head stubbornly. "He's a scholar. He doesn't know how to …" He gestured helplessly. "He said you said to play along, but what if something goes wrong? He won't know what to do."

"And what could you do that he could not?"

Rick shrugged and started poking the fire again.

"I'm not an idiot, Mr. Grayson. And I've kept an eye on the Gotham news since my last visit out of a sense of ... let's call it curiosity."

Rick looked at her blankly.

Somerville pulled on her cigarette and exhaled slowly. "Of course, I don't expect you to admit anything. But I will tell you something that I did not tell your tutor. Dr. Marquez's compound was not raided by paramilitaries."

"Who was it then?"

"It was FARC."

Rick frowned. "But they rescued us!"

"Do you feel rescued?"

Rick rapidly sorted through the possibilities. "They staged the whole thing? But they take hostages under their own name all the time. Why would this be different?"

"Good question."

"It puts them in a better light," he said slowly, "although we're not anybody special as far as they know. I mean, Dr. Marquez is a genius, but he doesn't have any political …" He trailed off as a pain hazed memory floated to the surface. "He was the target," Rick realized. "They were delivering him to somebody, and they didn't want the responsibility."

"Who did they give him to?" she asked sharply.

"I don't know. I was pretty out of it. But I did hear the guy say he had an appointment in Gotham City."

"But you don't know who this man was?"

"No idea," Rick promised. "Him mentioning Gotham was just a coincidence."

"Tell me exactly what happened at the compound."

"We were playing soccer. The ball went into the trees by the fence, and when Luis came back out with it, there was a man with a rifle behind him. Two others came out from behind the buildings and herded us into the generator shed."

"To hide the noise of the shots," she surmised.

"That's what …" he almost said 'I' but hastily substituted, "we thought."

"How many of you were there?"

"The caretaker and his wife and their three grandchildren. They took Jose Luis out first."

"The caretaker?"

"Yeah. That's when we decided to break out. They didn't have a guard posted on the shed, so it was easy. Maria took the kids and ran for the jungle. I had to find Alex. I … I found Jose Luis on the way. They shot him. Alex and Dr. Marquez were inside the house. One of the men had a gun on Alex, like he was about to shoot him."

"So you jumped through the window."

"It's not like I had any time to think up a good plan," he said defensively. "Alex told them we were American and they could get a ransom for us, so they took us with them."

"They shot the caretaker," she mused, "but put no guard on the rest of you. They wanted you to escape as witnesses to prove paramilitary involvement. You and Dr. Peaceable were a bonus. If they'd known who you were, they wouldn't have put you in with the ones they intended to escape."

"Why would anybody want Dr. Marquez? He's not building a weapons system. He does time theory!"

Somerville shrugged, tossing the butt of her cigarette into the fire. "Who knows why they want what they want? But it's good that you're only an extra hostage. They'll let you go for money. It will only take a little time."

Cecilia really believed that was true, as long as some misguided rescue effort on the part of Richard's guardian didn't stir up a hornet's nest. Two days later, a smiling teniente came over and told them that Alex had been safely handed over to the Americans, and that in "gratitude," one of his very own brothers had been released. "You see how generous we can be," the teniente boasted. "And soon, young man, we will send you home as well." He offered Rick a cigarette.

That night, the camp had another clandestine visitor. Again, there was a bed check, after which Cecilia crept silently through the darkness to the back of the teniente's lean-to. She thought it was the same man who had visited to announce the trade for Alex, and she hoped he now brought similar news about Rick.

He did, but it didn't make her happy.

"Raul brought word," the visitor said, and even though he whispered his nervousness was evident.

"When do we get what was promised to us?" the teniente asked.

"Raul says el oscuro wants something else."

"That was not part of the deal! We did everything he asked. We gave him the old man, and made it look like paramilitaries."

"Raul says, no delivery until el oscuro gets what he wants."

The teniente puffed anxiously on his cigarette before grudgingly asking, "What?"

"The boy."

"Ricardo? He's just the son of a maid."

"They didn't tell Raul why. But if we don't give him the boy, then we get nothing. If we do, we get six American rockets."

The teniente drew in a sharp breath. "Six? Who is this boy?"

"Maybe it's better not to ask."

"Maybe. All right, you can take him out tomorrow. Pretend he's being exchanged and he won't give you any trouble."

Cecilia didn't wait to hear anymore but crept back to the prisoners' shelter. She waited until the glow of the teniente's cigarette disappeared and both men had had time to fall asleep. Then she touched Richard's shoulder. He woke immediately and silently.

"We're leaving," she whispered, and then woke Dr. Nina. "Doctor, we have to go."

Nina shook her head. "Not me."

"Don't be a fool," Cecilia hissed. "If we escape, they'll think you helped us. If you're lucky they'll kill you quickly."

"So make it look like I tried to stop you," the elderly doctor countered. "I made my decision long ago."

Cecilia clenched her fists in frustration, but they had no time to argue. "You'll have to come with us to the river at least."

The sleepy sentry was smoking by the fire, his back turned to them. One by one, they slipped out of the lean-to and over the perimeter into the jungle. Once they had eased around the clearing, they could travel more quickly down the dark path that led to the river. When they were still a few yards away, Cecilia ordered them to wait, while she scouted ahead. The sentry stood yawning over the boats, and she felled him with one blow from a heavy branch. Taking his AK-47 and hastily pulling everything out of his pockets and stuffing it into her own, she returned to Richard and Nina.

It was much too dark to see their faces, so she reached out and grasped the doctor's arm. "Come with us. Please."

Nina placed callused fingers over hers. "God has sent me here, so here I will stay."

"You're a fanatic," Cecilia hissed, losing her temper.

Nine squeezed her hand. "Possibly. But you too have the courage of your convictions." Gently pushing Cecilia's hand away, she gave Richard a brief hug. "Take care of yourself, young man. Don't strain that shoulder."

"Thanks," he whispered as she drew away.

"Hit me," Nina ordered. "Right over the temple."

Cecilia closed her eyes for a moment. "Goodbye, doctor." Lifting the gun, she slammed the butt against Nina's head.

Richard gave a muffled cry and caught the old woman as she crumpled. "What are you doing?"

"She won't go with us. This way, they might believe she didn't help us escape. Put her down, and let's go."

As the boy reluctantly lowered Nina's unconscious form to the ground, a shout echoed through the darkness.

Cecilia swore. "They know we're gone. Come on!" Grabbing Richard's arm, she ran the few yards to the river and jumped into one of the small boats tied to the bank. As soon as the boy was in the boat, she unsheathed the knife she had taken from the guard and sliced the mooring rope. A hard shove with a paddle thrust them into the current's power, as the water carried them silently into the darkness.

To Be Continued

A/N Well, there it is. Graduate school continues to be crazy, but the real reason the updates have dried up is that I've been working very seriously on an original fantasy novel (I've actually made it to the third draft of this one. Go me!). I've found that I just don't have enough creative energy to go around :( At any rate, I haven't given up hope of finishing this story, but sadly can't make any promises about how sloooooowly the updates will be coming.

Thank you every so much to all you wonderful readers! You are literally the reason I keep picking away at this and haven't shut it up in a file forever.

Finally, several of you have requested the chapter extras. I'm sorry for not responding to you individually, but I will be posting them as a separate story sometime this weekend, so that everybody can have access.