Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Clark/Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Roy/Johnny, Brad Stryker, Sam Elkins, Brendan, Kelly Brackett
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. New superheroes appear on the scene as the Abolitionist Movement gathers strength. Meanwhile, Lex gets his heart’s desire while long-held secrets begin to spill out of the Manor. Nothing will ever be the same again.
The entire series can be found here.
Genres: AU, Challenge, Drama, Slavefic
Challenge Category: Section E (Slavefic)
Rating: (this chapter): G
Summary: When illness strikes swiftly, the Wayne Family quickly meets the crisis head-on.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): August 19, 2009
Date Of Posting: October 13, 2010
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1080
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Written for my 2010 DCU Fic/Art Bondage Challenge.
Dr. Thomas Wayne
“Clark! Call for an ambulance!”
Clark looked up from pruning the hedge in the garden as Dick ran outside.
“What’s happened?” He set down the shears and pulled off his gloves, the sea sparkling behind him on this brilliant October day.
Clark could hear the fear in Dick’s voice. This was a boy not prone to hysterical fits as befit the partner of the Batman. It was a real emergency.
Clark ran after Dick as the boy rushed into the kitchen. Alfred was sprawled on the floor, unconscious.
“Let’s get him on the couch in the living room.”
Clark picked Alfred up and carried the older gentleman to the living room, laying him gently on the couch.
“Stay with him.”
Back in the kitchen, Clark picked up the phone, calling 911. Clark began to talk to the dispatcher.
“Wait!” Dick rushed in. “Is it an S.A. ambulance?”
Dick took the phone from Clark. “Ma’am, is this an S.A. ambulance?” Relief swept over his face. “Thank you, ma’am.” He gave the address and a quick description of the situation, then hung up.
“Dick, what’s S.A. mean?”
“Slave-Accepting. If it’s not an S.A. ambulance, they’ll refuse to take Alfred.”
Appalled, Clark cried, “But they can’t turn him away!”
“They can and they would.”
Clark followed Dick back to the living room, checking Alfred. The butler was still unresponsive.
“I’d better call Bruce.” Dick ran back to the kitchen.
Clark sat on the edge of the couch, taking Alfred’s pulse: weak and thready. His skin was flushed, and Clark felt his worry increase.
“Bruce will meet us there.” Dick hurried to the couch.
“At the hospital?”
Dick nodded. “It’s S.A. Bruce’s parents made sure of that. His father worked there as a doctor.”
Clark smiled a little. Bruce’s parents were very caring, and had done much for Gotham’s people, including slaves.
“I’ll get a bag packed for Alfred.” Dick hurried upstairs.
Clark sighed. Dick was better in this crisis that he was, but he had to think fast on his pixie boots.
He put a hand on Alfred’s brow, worrying and wishing the ambulance would hurry up, appalled that certain hospitals and medical personnel could turn away sick slaves without a twinge of conscience.
The wail of a siren could be heard coming up the road and driveway, followed by a taxi. Clark hurried to the front door, quickly putting on his dark glasses. Dick barreled down the stairs carrying Alfred’s valise.
“I called the taxi. Even if they let us in the ambulance, they’ll only let one.”
“You think of everything.”
Dick gave Clark a quick smile.
The doorbell rang and Clark opened the door. A strawberry-blond man with a calm demeanor asked, “Where’s the patient?” He was dressed in a paramedic uniform. His dark-haired partner was right behind him, carrying the tools of their trade: oxygen tank and drug box while the blond carried the trauma box and biophone.
Clark led them into the living room and they went to work, taking vital signs and communicating with the hospital. They worked in perfect sync, barely needing to speak to each other at all. Another siren could be heard, this time that of the ambulance. The attendants wheeled the gurney in and the paramedics strapped Alfred into the stretcher, the attendants carrying him out.
Dick put a hand on the dark-haired paramedic’s arm. “Can we go in the ambulance with Alfred?”
“You can, kid.” He looked at Clark. “Only one, sorry.” The man whose nametag read ‘J. Gage’ looked at his partner. “Hey, Roy, you’ve got a passenger.”
“Okay, Johnny.” The blond smiled at Dick, who smiled back as Johnny gave him a pat on the shoulder with a crooked grin of his own. Dick scrambled into the ambulance while Clark headed for the taxi. The driver seemed unperturbed at a lone slave passenger, for which Clark was grateful. He didn’t want to deal with slavephobes right now.
“Gotham General, please.”
“You got it, Beautiful,” answered the cabbie.
“Oh, wait, I have to contact Security.” He took out his cellphone.
Suddenly, two men in dark suits emerged from the woods. “What’s going on, kid?” asked Brad Stryker, Head of Security. Dick explained and Stryker said, “I’m going with you.”
Since Clark’s kidnapping, Bruce had beefed up security around the estate, and wanted his slaves to be kept under surveillance when they left the grounds. The silver-haired security expert slid next to Clark in the cab, telling his second-in-command, Sam Elkins, to follow in another car. The dark-skinned man nodded and trotted to the garage.
The taxi followed the ambulance and squad down the driveway, the security man keeping in contact with his staff. Tall and broad-shouldered, Stryker was ex-military and wore dark glasses like his men did. Clark felt very safe with him.
The cabbie made it to Gotham General in record time, and Clark tipped him generously, hurrying toward the Emergency Room with Brad Stryker right beside him. Bruce and Brendan were already there, Dick with them, the valise by his feet.
“How’s Alfred?” Clark asked.
“They’re working on him now,” Bruce said, worry in his voice and eyes.
Glances were occasionally thrown Bruce’s way, but most people were too worried about their own loved one so notice the famous personage in their midst.
The Wayne Family settled onto couches and in chairs, prepared to wait as long as it took.
Bruce stood, his slaves and Brendan doing the same. Stryker was stationed discreetly a short distance away.
“Yes, Dr. Brackett?”
Kelly Brackett ran a hand through dark hair. “Alfred has a form of influenza, one of the new strains.”
“Your treatment plans?”
“The proper antibiotics and medicines, and close monitoring. He’s congested, so he may need to go on a respirator.”
Bruce rubbed his face. Clark could see the pain of a headache in his eyes.
“I want full access.”
“Of course, Mr. Wayne.”
“Thank you, Doctor. We’ll go to the ICU waiting room. Please let us know when you bring Alfred up.”
“I will.” Brackett turned to leave.
“Yes?” Brackett turned back.
“There were no alien contaminations from our trip to Jovara?”
“No. We did extensive tests, of course. Nothing escaped the decom.”
The Family headed for ICU, worried but not quite as frantic.