August 17, 1725h

	Leslie was mildly surprised when Spud opened the door for her and Alfred, 
but she managed a smile for him.  "Hi, Spud.  They left you in charge?"
	The youngster nodded solemnly.  He still looked wan and pale, but sleep 
had taken the frantic edge out of his eyes.  "Dinah's taking a nap and Babs is 
Downstairs, so I'm watching the phone."
	"Ah, very good," Alfred acknowledged.  "That's a very important job, 
Master James." 
	"Yes," Leslie agreed. Alfred had mentioned that Spud seemed to have a new 
mission since he had awakened.  He'd bullied Alfred into a nap in the early 
afternoon and apparently had done the same to Dinah.
	Spud carefully shut the door behind Alfred and Leslie and reactivated the 
locks.  "Come on," he directed, leading them through the house to the Oracle 
workroom and the elevator it contained.  It was only when they entered the 
workroom that Leslie realized that "watching the phone" meant monitoring the 
Oracle line.
	"Babs is waiting for you," Spud explained as he tapped the elevator call 
button.  When the door opened, he stood aside and made no move to enter.
	"Aren't you coming?" Leslie asked.
	"I explained to Dick that someone has to keep the house running until he's 
back on his feet," Spud informed her with a seriousness that made her ache for 
him.  "He's supposed to call if he needs me."
	"He'll always need you, Master James," Alfred said softly, "but I am sure 
he is proud that you are helping where help is most needed."
	He reached down to give Spud's shoulder a squeeze, then joined Leslie in 
the elevator.  The doors closed, and Leslie looked at him.  "A bit of a shift," 
she remarked.
	"I suspect when night falls, he'll be back by Master Dick's side."  
Alfred's voice held a note of surety that reminded Leslie of how many 
traumatized small boys Alfred had coaxed through crises.
	The opening of the elevator doors forestalled any further comment.
	The lair was quieter than Leslie had left it, with only Babs by Dick's 
bedside.  The emergency team was gone, although Leslie knew someone could be 
summoned in a heart beat if needed.  She hoped they would not be needed again.
	She crossed the space to Dick's bed swiftly, smiling at Babs.  "And how is 
our patient?" she asked gently.
	Babs looked up at her, her face looking slightly less drawn than it had in 
the early hours of the morning.  "Still feverish," she replied.  Her voice 
sounded hoarse.
	Leslie nodded, picking up the chart hanging from the bed.
	"Leslie?"
	"Mmm hmm."  His temperature was still fluctuating a few tenths to either 
side of 100 degrees, Leslie noted with concern.  And the latest notes showed his 
chest congestion wasn't clearing as it should be.  
	"Leslie."
	Babs tone brought Leslie's eyes up.
	"I wanted to say I'm sorry," Babs said humbly.  "About last night.  With 
Spud.  You were right."
	Leslie dropped her eyes back to the chart.  "He looks better this 
afternoon."
	"Dick or Spud?"
	"Both, but I meant Spud."  Leslie looked up again.  "I bow to a mother's 
wisdom.  The hand holding thing was my fault.  I was the one who suggested it to 
him.  It looks like you've found better ways to make him feel needed."
	"Leslie, don't."
	Leslie sighed.  "Barbara, I'm sorry, too.  I'm sorry any of this happened.  
But last night - you were exhausted and worried and trying to do right by a boy 
who's seen too much of this kind of thing in his short life.  I'd be a poor 
doctor if I took that personally."
	She paused, then reached a hand past the respirator tube to brush a stray 
lock of hair from Dick's forehead.  His face was warm under her palm, causing 
her to frown slightly.  She hoped against hope this wasn't gong to turn into a 
fight against pneumonia on top of everything else.  "I just wish I could heal 
him."
	Babs set her hand atop Leslie's for a moment.  "You're working miracles," she reassured quietly before pulling 
back to let Alfred take her place.