Fic: The Beginning, Chapter Four (continuing prequel to the 'What Aunt Dahlia Saw' series)
A new chapter in the 'What Aunt Dahlia Saw: The Beginning' series. A much longer, quieter chapter this time.
Title: - The Beginning: Chapter Four - Bathroom
Author: bertiebwriting
Pairing: Jeeves/Wooster
Rating: PG-13
Wordcount: 5006
Warnings: Slash
Summary: Chapter Four of the prequel to the 'What Aunt Dahlia Saw' series.
Links to past chapters:
What Aunt Dahlia Saw:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
The Beginning:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
The Beginning: Chapter Four
Bathroom
‘I’m all right, Jeeves. Honestly,’ Bertie said as they returned to the safety of Wooster GHQ. ‘I just feel rather foolish, that’s all.’
He was shivering-unsurprising in itself, considering he’d just been walking through the rain at night without a coat-but added to his white face and trembling frame, Jeeves surmised that his master was in a state of shock. After giving him a dose of aspirin, therefore, he began running a hot bath and insisted that Bertie remove his torn evening suit.
Bertie obeyed, peeling off the collar and stripping the shirt from his skin mechanically. His head still ached and it was painful to move, but it felt good to be indoors where it was warm and dry, and he could feel that lost, frightened feeling melting away. He’d never felt so glad to be home.
He even found himself smiling a bit as he glanced over at Jeeves; Jeeves, however, was looking at him with an expression he’d not seen on his face before. The mask was there as usual, but in the eyes he thought he saw a glimmer of dismay. He followed the fellow’s gaze, looking down, and saw a number of large, ugly bruises.
Jeeves said nothing, directing Bertie to the bath. Bertie shed the remainder of the garments and stepped in, lowering himself into the water with a wince.
‘Gosh. I’m awfully stiff and sore.’
‘So I would be disposed to imagine, sir,’ Jeeves said, adding some salts to the water. ‘It must have been an extremely trying ordeal.’
There was no question in his tone, but Bertie sensed that the man probably wanted to know more about what had happened. ‘Yes,’ he muttered, ‘well, they were a bit more rough than necessary, I think.’
As he recalled the scene he felt a powerful reluctance to discuss it very deeply.
‘“They”, sir?’
‘Er, yes. Didn’t I say? It was a couple of fellows.’
Jeeves nodded. ‘Judging from your appearance, sir, I imagined such to be the case.’
Bertie grinned ruefully. ‘I must look rather a sight, what?’
A smile flickered in response. ‘Certainly I have seen you to better advantage, sir.’
Jeeves picked up Bertie’s discarded clothes while Bertie splashed some water over himself. It felt pleasant, and he was eager to wash the past few hours away; however as he picked up the soap he suddenly felt extraordinarily weary, and he bowed his head for a moment, closing his eyes. A feeling of peace descended, and gradually, he felt his tremors begin to subside.
He was listening to the comfortingly familiar sounds of his bathroom when the sound of a cupboard softly closing made him realise that Jeeves was still in his midst. He opened his eyes with a bit of a start-Jeeves usually left him alone when he was in his bath, but now he was flitting about the room with towels, his morning coat discarded, quietly busy. Bertie had no objection to this; observing Jeeves going about his duties always had a soothing effect on him, and never more so than now. But he found himself wondering, a little anxiously, whether Jeeves’s usual discreet withdrawal was imminent or if he intended to linger. Jeeves had been messing about with flannel cloths and such, but now he was fastidiously straightening the soap dish by the washbasin almost as if he was dithering. Bertie couldn’t think of a good reason to compel him to stay-asking the chap to remain simply to keep him company seemed silly-but he was becoming uneasily conscious of just how very much he wanted Jeeves near him. He waited in silent suspense, already feeling the hollow sensation he knew would descend when Jeeves shimmered off.
At length, after what seemed like a lot of unnecessary tidying and adjusting, Jeeves gave him a flicker of a glance, moved a small footstool beside the bath and seated himself at Bertie’s elbow.
The warm thrill of relief and gratitude was instantaneous. It was deeper than Bertie could have anticipated, in fact, and he found himself looking away for a moment, fearing that his expression might reveal more than Jeeves would deem appropriate. Part of him longed to know what Jeeves’s intentions were, but the fact that Jeeves had chosen to remain at his side without being instructed somehow made him feel less ashamed of the desire for his valet’s continued presence. If Jeeves felt that it was appropriate, then perhaps it wasn’t so very untoward.
When he finally managed to look up again, Jeeves had placed a basin full of water on the floor in front of him, and having unfastened the cuffs of his shirt was leaning forward to test the water’s heat with the back of his hand. Apparently satisfied, he straightened and began, rather slowly and carefully, to turn up his sleeves to the elbow. This wasn’t something Bertie had seen Jeeves do before; the realization caused a curious flutter of anticipation in his stomach.
Jeeves didn’t notice this, however. He had been preoccupied as he deliberated the best course of action, and was still now more than usually distracted, for it was rare that he found himself vacillating to this extent. Ordinarily he would have made whatever suggestion seemed most appropriate and then acted according to Mr. Wooster’s subsequent instruction-but in Bertie’s shaken condition Jeeves wasn’t sure that the gentleman was equal to the task of gauging his own needs, and he too was uncharacteristically at a loss. When he first beheld his injured master in the entrance hall, his initial impulse to seek out the miscreants responsible had swiftly fled before the desire to protect and care for him, yet once they were in the apartment, the emotion he felt on seeing Bertie’s injuries made him suddenly uneasy to extend himself in a way that might be considered more intimately familiar with his employer than his usual duties stipulated. Intimacy tended to stir up one’s emotions, and Jeeves was always wary of allowing this in any prolonged sense-especially with Mr. Wooster, for with him the emotions were more extensive and complex than with any other gentlemen he had served. The safest course therefore was surely to make sure that the Bertie was comfortable and then insist on calling a doctor to attend to his needs.
However sensible this decision seemed, however, Jeeves soon saw that it would not adequately address the situation. Bertie was keeping himself together bravely, but though the shivering had ceased his hands continued to tremble, and Jeeves could not fail to notice a general nervousness and tension quite contrary to his usual relaxed and easy manner. He could not recall ever having seen him so distressed. Meanwhile the bruises, while upsetting to witness, did not appear to be urgent-in all probability, inviting a stranger to inspect them at this late hour would only serve to add to his master’s unease.
No; what Mr. Wooster now needed most was not a doctor, but a trusted companion. His closest friend. And Jeeves knew-had known for some time, in fact-that this meant him.
He was resolved to attend to the medical requirements himself, therefore. He could fetch a doctor in the morning if it seemed necessary; so long as he was able to keep his personal concerns sufficiently in check, Jeeves was now determined that his only purpose should be to put Bertie at ease in any way he could, provided Mr. Wooster himself did not show any signs of chagrin. It would necessitate a certain relaxing of the usual standards of propriety, but after all these years, he owed his employer that much.
Having moistened a flannel cloth Jeeves glanced at Bertie again, silently verifying his leave to assist, then turned his attention to the injured face. His master was looking very much the worse for wear, and he found that the desire to restore him to something like his old self was a strong one. Drawing closer he proceeded to gently wash the blood and grime away, examining carefully as he worked.
Bertie, meanwhile, found himself struggling to breathe calmly as his man drew near. It felt strange having Jeeves give him such a searching look while he sat there naked in his bath. Not knowing where to direct his eyes, he closed them, but even without sight he could sense Jeeves’s gaze piercing him. The man’s left hand was under his chin now, steadying his face, and in the unusual quietness of the scene he could make out the sound of Jeeves’s breathing. It was a sound he’d never noticed before.
Jeeves’s voice entered the quiet. ‘Your nose does not appear to be broken, sir. The bleeding has already stopped.’
‘Oh.’ Bertie opened his eyes. Jeeves was still examining him intently, but if they could speak a little that somehow made it less awkward. He cleared his throat, wanting his voice to sound as normal as possible. ‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘I expect it looked worse than it really was.’
Jeeves nodded, and Bertie tried to focus on a spot on the wall opposite him. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so tense around Jeeves before; for some reason his thoughts ran back to that alleyway, very briefly, but he frowned, pushed the memory aside, and managed to smile.
‘You’re not going to insist on dragging a doctor up here then, Jeeves?’
Jeeves’s mouth twitched, and he shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
‘Jolly good.’
‘I trust my services will prove adequate, sir, for the present.’
‘Oh-rather. Absolutely.’
All became quiet again. Bertie tried to think of something else to say, but now nothing was coming to mind. He coughed awkwardly, then found himself wincing.
Jeeves withdrew the cloth. ‘Are you in much pain, sir?’
Bertie shook his head, frowning. ‘I wouldn’t say that I’m in agony, Jeeves. Everything seems to smart at the moment, but I suppose that’s to be expected.’
‘I was wondering, sir, if you feel any discomfort in the area of the chest.’
It was incredible that Jeeves was able to pinpoint precisely what was bothering him. The man had an eye like a hawk. Feeling more naked than ever, Bertie frowned again and shook his head uncertainly. ‘A bit, I suppose. Not at the moment, though. Why?’
‘I fear one or more of your ribs may be damaged, sir.’
‘Really? Wouldn’t that have me writhing about in anguish?’
‘Not necessarily, sir.’
‘Well then, how would I know if I have or haven’t?’
‘Here, sir,’ Jeeves said, ‘if you will allow me,’ and to Bertie’s surprise and confusion, Jeeves lay one hand on his shoulder and the other on his chest before he had a chance to say anything.
‘Oh,’ he gulped. ‘I see.’
Jeeves began checking carefully, apparently alert for any irregularity, so Bertie took a few slow, experimental breaths, looking down at the water. The hands on him were warm and strong and handled him with a considerate confidence, and he realised uncomfortably that they could probably detect the vibration of his heart beating. He swallowed, shivering a little. The bathroom became very quiet once again-there was only the sound of a dripping tap and his own breathing-however when he breathed in too deeply, causing a rather unpleasant twinge in his side, he found he didn’t want to break the silence by saying so. The discomfort wasn’t too severe, and something about the stillness of the scene was bringing home to him how terribly kind Jeeves was being. He stole a look at the man’s serious, concerned face (which was very close to his own) and found himself swallowing hard-while he didn’t actually weep, he felt that it would take just one more word from Jeeves in that gentle tone to make him break down.
‘It feels fine,’ he nodded, suddenly needing to end the moment. ‘Just fine.’
‘Are you certain, sir?’ Jeeves enquired. He withdrew his hands, leaving Bertie feeling weak; he recovered himself and gave a feeble laugh, his face flushing.
‘Yes. Yes, I’m fine. It’s just that I’m still a bit tense, that’s all.’
Jeeves nodded understandingly. ‘I could not discern any serious injury, sir; I suspect there may be a slight fracture, however. I should not advocate exerting yourself too greatly for the next few weeks.’
Bertie nodded, closing his eyes in relief. But then he felt Jeeves’s hand gently touching his chin.
‘If you would look up for a moment, sir.’
He obeyed, blinking wearily, and Jeeves resumed his careful cleansing with the cloth. Bertie wondered briefly what there could be left to clean by this time, but Jeeves seemed to be anxious to examine him thoroughly-perhaps he considered it part of his duty as valet-and as awkward as he felt under Jeeves’s keen eye, he still craved the man’s company. He sighed again, and now the words necessary to give voice to his feelings came to him naturally.
‘Gosh-thank goodness you’re here, Jeeves. I should be thoroughly miserable if I were alone at this moment.’
Jeeves met his eye for a moment with a glimmer of sympathy. ‘I am happy to be of comfort, sir.’
‘It’s jolly handy, I must say, you knowing how to patch a fellow up. Tending to the fallen and all that. You seem to-’ he broke off, hissing in pain as Jeeves’s flannel made contact with his upper lip. ‘Ow.’
‘I am sorry, sir.’ Jeeves studied him for a moment, dabbing carefully with the flannel. ‘You have sustained a fairly minor cut to your lip, sir. It is already healing, I am happy to say.’
‘Mm. I thought something felt odd. Is there something the matter with my right eye?’
Jeeves nodded, touching the area gently. A bruise on Bertie’s cheek bone, just beneath his eye, had darkened and spread since Jeeves had escorted him into the apartment, and was now swelling enough to give him a slight squint.
‘Do I have a bit of a shiner?’
‘There is some significant swelling and bruising in the ocular area, sir.’
‘I thought so. It hurts a bit when I blink, which is rather often, as it happens.’
‘I will apply some arnica to it, sir, after you have completed your bath,’ Jeeves said. He gave Bertie’s face a last critical look, and apparently satisfied, lifted the basin of water from the floor and wrung out the flannel.
Bertie felt initially relieved-but then as Jeeves took the basin away to rinse, the relief was replaced by a sort of weary, empty feeling. He made an effort to rouse himself a little; Jeeves had excelled himself in his attention to the young master, but there came a time when a chap had to pull himself together and be his own man, as it were. He picked up the bar of soap to wash himself, his arms feeling heavy; turning the soap in his hands for a moment, he fell into a dazed reverie.
Now the memory of his attack came creeping back to him unbidden, images flashing in his mind irresistibly. The man with the cigarette, the gun inches from his face-British guy, huh?-boots kicking him, and Jeeves appearing, which was all wrong because of course he hadn’t been there-yet there he was, a dark angel summoned either by Bertie’s call or by some supernatural sense. The men vanished, and Jeeves reached out a hand to him, but Bertie was already falling, falling down a deep dark well that had opened up beneath him.
A hand touched his, awakening him from his stupour, and looking up with a start he saw that Jeeves was at his side once more. How much time had just passed, he could not guess-it felt like an hour since the man had left, but perhaps it was merely a few moments. He looked down at his hands and found that he was still clutching the bar of soap.
Jeeves gently took it from him-and then, as if it was one of his regular duties, he lathered the flannel cloth and without a word or a glance, began washing him, applying the cloth to the back of Bertie’s neck. It was so unexpected, and felt so delicious, Bertie almost gasped. Not wanting Jeeves to notice his excitement, he closed his eyes and let his head fall forwards under the gentle pressure, resting his arms on his knees. Jeeves moved the cloth in a careful, steady motion across the shoulders; but then after a short while he slid the flannel over the shoulder and to the front, wordlessly encouraging him to provide easier access. Bertie did so, raising his head, and now he couldn’t help seeing Jeeves’s face. Somehow the sight startled him. Jeeves looked as calm and serene as ever on the surface, yet there was something different in his eyes, a seriousness that made him seem somehow pensive and-could it be?-nervous. Which didn’t make sense, because Jeeves was never nervous.
He closed his eyes again, afraid of meeting that gaze, but now without sight he was more keenly sensitive to the touch of the flannel in Jeeves’s hands. It had been tightly rolled, damp and soapy on his shoulder, but now it left him momentarily-he heard the soft slap of water, and when it returned it was unfurled and soaked through. He felt water trickling down his chest, Jeeves’s palm flat and warm against him through the material, gliding firmly along the ridge of his shoulder. As it began to descend, however, the motion slowed-and now the sensation of Jeeves’s hand moving in careful circles from the clavicle down to the major pectoral felt so like a caress that he couldn’t prevent a sigh from escaping him. This attention was far beyond anything he expected, beyond, he was certain, any pleasure he’d ever received from another person’s hands. There had been rather a shortage of what one might call physical intimacy in his life-even as a child it was rare-but he never felt more keenly aware of its absence than now, and rather hated to consider how many years Jeeves had been with him, all the while with the means to provide this heavenly sensation, without his ever having had the advantage of it.
Such thoughts were quickly taken over by other concerns, however. The slow, lingering caress-for he couldn’t help imagining it as such, even though this was a foolish, idiotic notion-tracked across from the left of his chest to his right, necessitating Jeeves leaning closer still, and Bertie found that his heart was beating fast and a hot, giddy, almost irresistible excitement was springing up inside him, pooling in his groin. He adjusted his hands in his lap to hide it, but still it was becoming harder to breathe, hard not to groan aloud. He bit his lip and frowned, trying desperately to think of something else.
‘Am I hurting you, sir?’
His eyes flew open, his heart pounding harder. He wasn’t sure if actually seeing Jeeves’s hands on him helped dispel the illusion, or if it made it worse. ‘No, no, not at all,’ he croaked. His voice was shaking-Jeeves surely noticed.
But Jeeves merely nodded, intent on his task and apparently still attributing Bertie’s discomfort to pain. ‘I trust you will tell me, sir, if this is too uncomfortable.’
Bertie nodded. ‘Of course. It’s-’ he broke off with a gasp. Jeeves’s hand had brushed his right nipple, making him pant. ‘Oh, gosh,’ he muttered breathlessly.
‘Forgive me,’ Jeeves murmured.
Bertie chuckled weakly. ‘No-no, I’m fine. I’m fine.’
Inexplicably he found himself fighting the urge to giggle; that thrill of ecstasy had shocked and scared him. He gazed at the bathroom tiles, concentrating hard. ‘I’m fine,’ he repeated.
‘I shall endeavour to be more gentle, sir.’
He sounded a bit hoarse, Bertie thought. He realised guiltily that the man must be pretty tired.
‘It’s all right. Really.’ He heaved a deep breath, casting about for something else to talk about. As he breathed out he felt a brief sharp pain, reminding him of the recent ordeal-somehow this didn’t seem like such a painful subject to discuss anymore.
‘I-er-I wonder if muggings are a fairly commonplace occurrence here in New York, Jeeves.’
‘I understand it is a growing problem, sir.’
Bertie breathed, out, then in. ‘I bet it’s never happened to you.’
‘No, sir, but I fear few are entirely safe when it comes to professional criminals such as you encountered tonight. I attribute my continued lack of experience mostly to simple good fortune.’
Bertie breathed out again and smiled a little. The tense excitement had eased up a bit, now that they were talking. ‘Possibly it’s good fortune, Jeeves. And then, possibly, it’s the fact that you’re probably a more muscular, well-knit specimen than most of the criminals out there.’
Jeeves raised an eyebrow. ‘Hardly, sir.’
‘Oh yes, you are. Those two fellows I met earlier would have to be certifiable to want to pick a fight with you, Jeeves.’
Jeeves allowed a small smile in return. ‘It is good of you to say so, sir.’ He was being more careful now, moving the flannel across Bertie’s chest very slowly, as if anxious to avoid placing too much pressure on the bruises. Quiet descended again.
‘Thank you,’ Bertie said softly.
Their eyes met for a moment. Jeeves didn’t speak, only nodded slightly. Bertie looked away abruptly. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from voicing the deep gratitude that suddenly welled up in him; Jeeves’s actions were so gentle that it was hard not to feel a stirring of the emotions. As long as they were conversing he was just about able to push the raw sensuality of it all to the back of his mind, but still it was difficult to believe that the purpose of Jeeves’s attention was to merely to assist with the practicalities of washing. He couldn’t help entertaining the idea that Jeeves’s intent was in fact to calm and comfort him.
Now he regretted his expression of gratitude, though. It seemed to have brought about another silence, and it was making him fidgety. To make matters worse the flannel was now sluicing the part of his chest that was just above the water-line; while the bath was a deepish one, as tall as Bertie was the surface was still not much higher than the top of his waist, and the proximity was causing a faint sense of panic to return. He hadn’t wanted to dwell on it, but in truth, a certain scenario was proving difficult to dispel from his mind-for he had, on more than one occasion, entertained the furtive, foolish fantasy of Jeeves sitting close beside his bath like this and assisting him in ways he was afraid to think of while in the man’s company.
He tried, once again, to think of some trivial topic to keep the dialogue flowing.
‘It-er-it seemed like a pretty wet night out there, Jeeves.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A touch of fog by now, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Natural for the time of year, I suppose. Season of mists and fruitful mellowness.’
Jeeves didn’t reply. Bertie had a feeling he hadn’t got that last part quite right, and wondered that Jeeves didn’t attempt to correct him. But now the flannel did dip a little below the surface of the water-accidentally, no doubt-and the thought was lost in the resultant anxiety. Bertie stirred a little, managing to contain the reaction, and uttered a light laugh, wincing as he did so.
‘You, er-you needn’t trouble yourself with anything below the waistline, Jeeves.’
Jeeves didn’t look at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched. ‘I shall leave you to complete your ablutions in privacy in a few minutes, sir.’
Bertie was glad that he responded to the remark with some amusement.
‘I should advocate allowing me to tend to the soles of your feet after your bath, however,’ Jeeves added. ‘I should imagine that you have some blisters after walking so far without shoes.’
‘Ah. Yes, that’s true.’
‘Also you have a large graze on your right knee that will require attention, if that is agreeable to you.’
‘Well yes, of course. Nothing below the waistline, apart from the legs and feet, I should have said.’
He blushed-he couldn’t help it-but Jeeves merely nodded, the flicker of a smile fading.
‘I trust you are feeling somewhat better, sir,’ he said at length.
This was an inquiry Bertie was well able to answer in the affirmative, and he did so gratefully. ‘Yes, by the minute, Jeeves,’ he said. ‘Things are slowly returning to the status quo. The hair is ceasing to do its fretful porcupine stuff-’
‘Porpentine, sir.’
‘-oh, yes. And the young blood, noticeably less frozen. Eyes, no longer starting from their spheres. Also the soul, less harrowed.’
‘I am delighted to hear it, sir.’
‘Thanks to you.’
Further words failed him for a moment, and his tribute hung in the air, seeming to grow heavier with each passing second. Jeeves held his arm and ran the flannel slowly from shoulder to wrist.
Then Bertie remembered something that he had been intending to ask Jeeves earlier.
‘I was going to say, Jeeves, that you seem rather professional when it comes to first-aid and all that.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Where did you learn this bedside manner? Is there a doctor in your family?’
‘No, sir, but I have a cousin who is a nurse.’
‘Oh. So you’ve picked up a few tips from her, have you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Just on the off-chance that such a circumstance as this might arise, eh?’
‘Precisely, sir. One never knows when such knowledge will prove valuable.’
‘I think your motto must be “Be Prepared”, like the Boy Scouts, Jeeves.’
A hint of a smile. ‘Very nearly, sir.’
Bertie found himself wondering how useful he might have been to Jeeves, had their present situations been reversed. The idea was a sobering one. He’d never imagined Jeeves in any way hurt or needing help; he couldn't help thinking that he would be a rather poor assistant to his valet in that event.
‘I have also had some little personal experience in a medical capacity, sir,’ Jeeves said in a confiding sort of way. He poured some stuff from a bottle into his hand, and began washing Bertie’s hair, massaging the scalp as he did so. It was rather unusual for him to break a silence without being invited, and he rarely did so in order to give a bit of personal information.
‘Oh, yes?’ Bertie responded curiously. ‘What experience was that?’
‘During the Great War, sir. I was for a time a stretcher bearer and assistant to a Medical Officer in a dressing station.’
‘Really? You were in the Great War?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘France?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘But you must have been just a wee lad.’
‘I was eighteen, sir. I served only in the final months of the war.’
‘Oh, I see.’
Bertie was quiet for a moment. He was picturing Jeeves as a young man on the battlefield.
‘Heavens,’ he said at last. ‘I had no idea you were ever over there. My father was killed at the Front, you know.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘He was about thirty-one, I think. I don’t suppose you’d have come across him, though, because he died at Ypres in nineteen-fifteen. It was the gas that got him, apparently. I was eight.’
‘I am sorry, sir.’
Bertie shook his head. ‘It makes all this fuss over a mugging seem a bit silly, doesn’t it?’
‘If you would tilt your head back a little, sir.’
Bertie did so, and Jeeves carefully rinsed his hair before handing him a towel.
‘Do you have any other injuries, sir, besides those that I have attended to?’
‘No, no, no. Not really. I’m just a bit shaken up, that’s all.’ He swallowed, pushing his hands through his wet hair. ‘It’s decent of you to stay up and attend to the young master like this, Jeeves.’
‘Not at all, sir. I am always glad to be of assistance.’
‘I can’t tell you what a comfort it is. I was never more happy to see you than I was when you swam into my ken down in the entrance hall. I’m rather surprised that you were still up at such a late hour.’
‘It was Mr Callahan who called me, sir.’
‘Did he wake you up?’
Jeeves coughed, replacing the cap on the shampoo. ‘No, sir, I was not asleep. I decided to wait for your safe return before retiring.’
‘You didn’t have to do that. Don’t wait up, I told you.’
‘Yes, sir, but I felt reluctant to retire nevertheless. I felt that something was amiss.’
‘Did you, really?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Your instincts did not lead you astray. It’s amazing how you always seem to know what’s going on. Do you know, I-’
‘Sir?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
But he felt himself blush. He was thinking of the moment in the alley when he had yearned for Jeeves to appear. It was somewhat ironic that now, feeling Jeeves looking at him with his fathomless eyes, he said the first thing he could think of to get the man to turn them elsewhere.
‘What time is it?’
Jeeves consulted his watch. ‘It is twenty minutes past one, sir.’
‘Oh. Gosh, I’m sorry to keep you up.’
‘Not at all, sir. If you are able to finish your bath without further assistance, I shall prepare you a drink.’
‘I say. Would you?’
‘Of course, sir.’
He shimmered from the room and Bertie lay back in the hot water, resting his head on the towel Jeeves had placed. The heat was soothing, and his shivering had all but subsided; but all the places he’d been struck or kicked were stinging, and he was feeling exhausted.
Some ten minutes later he rose from the bath and dragged the bathrobe around himself, and after cleaning his teeth he shuffled though the bedroom and into the sitting room. Faintly he could hear Jeeves moving about in the kitchen. He sank into his chair, and at last was settled comfortably, feeling damp but pleasantly warm.
He closed his eyes, and waited for Jeeves to return to his side.
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To be continued...
A huge thanks to onedergirl for beta-ing this chapter for me over a year ago. You might have found a million things wrong with this, but your concrit helped me do some major rewriting, and I think - hope - you'll agree that for all its flaws it's a good deal stronger now. You're the best!