Please-Don't-Sue-Me: I do not own the Nanny Diaries, nor do I own any part of the character concepts that make up Grayer, Nanny, H.H., or any other mentioned characters. This is purely a work of fiction by a fan, and I am making no profit from it.

Tony hugged me reassuringly around the waist, his lips brushing the back of my ear. As a very-much last-ditch effort, I had moved into the place he shared with his mother. It had been awkward until she left for the summer. She liked me well enough, but she reminded me far too much of Mrs. X. Being in the same building as Grayer without being able to see him was murder, but as the months passed, it somewhat stopped causing me to lose sleep. Being wrapped around a warm body more than half of the time was a great comfort as well.

Still, as comfortable as I had become in my new routine – wake up, remember if Tony's still in town, remember if his family's still in town, feed Max, make sure the house is cleanish, and run to work or class – I was bored. Lather, rinse, repeat. My day-to-day was a lot less hectic than it had been while caring for that adorable toddler. Since then, I had avoided babysitting jobs. It wasn't worth it, to be reminded of him in those little ways. In a way, it was like breaking up with a long-beloved boyfriend. It was rough.

On occasion, I would see him. In the lobby, being toted around by his stern, German babysitter, or his ever-thinning mother, or even sometimes coming up to pet Max. That was really rare. Even when I did see him, I made damn sure that he didn't see me. It wouldn't be worth the trouble. I didn't want to put him through false hope.

After declaring me too hard to get a hold of, Tony bought me a cell phone. I paid the bill for it, but with zilch to pay for rent (I just had to buy my own food and look after the place while they were gone), it was cake to pay for a cell phone that I rarely used. Just as he got halfway down my neck, it rang. Obnoxiously. I sighed, but told him that it was probably work (I now worked as a liquor server at a pool hall), and that I needed the cash this week. I picked up.

"Hello?"

"Nanny?"

I stared bluntly at the wall. "Who is this?"

"Ms. Cleveland. Remember me?"

You're damn right I did. That trashy little tramp that ruined Mrs and Mr X's marriage, and indirectly caused me to lose my favorite job. I rolled my eyes. "What do you want?"

She tsk'd at me. "Touchy," she said, as if shaking her head. "Listen to this." I heard the sound of a door opening, and I could hear the heart-wrenching wails of Grayer. He was calling for me. Still. "When they got the divorce, he took the kid for revenge. Doesn't know what the hell to do with him now. She always took care of it, and I'm not about to look after the monster. He hates me." My lip curled to Grayer being called an 'it'.

Tony looked up at me as if trying to read the conversation on my face. I stuck my tongue out at him. "So why call me?"

"You hear him!" she hissed. "I'll give you your job back." I stayed silent. "Raise you five bucks an hour too." That was tempting.

"Promise me two things," I said flatly.

She gave a sigh of relief. "What?"

"I want a two-year contract, saying that you won't fire me unless I really fuck up, renewable contract, with a five dollar raise every January, and a cash Christmas bonus. Two, no errand shit like she pulled. I'm not there to pick up your dry cleaning, fix the toilet, get guests coffee, pick up groceries, or arrange gift bags for some stupid party that I'm not even invited to." As much as I would love to go back to taking care of Grayer, she didn't need to know that, and I needed to look after myself. She was obviously desperate if she was calling me.

Ms. Chicago seemed to hesitate for a moment. I could hear Grayer give an extra high-pitched wail for his efforts. This time, I smiled, because it helped to push her into finally saying, "Deal. Can you come down now? He hasn't stopped crying since he got home from school."

I began to ask who picked him up, but she hung up on me. I stared at the phone in surprise. Another question, how in the hell did she get my number? I sighed, and looked at Tony.

"What?"

"I got my job back."

"With Grover?"

"Yeah." I stared at my phone for another few moments before I jumped. "She wanted me to start now."

He stared at me incredulously. "And you said yes to that?"

I shrugged as I picked up my jacket, in case he wanted to go anywhere, and headed out. I took the stairs, and was out of breath by the time I got to the front door. She was waiting for me, smoking a cigarette in the hallway and propping the door open by herself. Absently, I glared at her as I passed, but I made a beeline for Grayer's room. His door was locked from the outside so that he couldn't leave his room. My face softened immediately. I'd probably be laying down the law for this kid soon. I pushed open the door and stared.

The room was a wreck. In his efforts for attention, he had torn everything that he could reach off of shelves, the walls, drawers. If it could be broken, it was. He was a mess too, face-down on his bed and crying his little heart out. I felt truly sorry for him. "Grover?" I called, and moved forward. "Hey, G, it's me." I sat near his head on the bed and ran a hand back over his blond hair.

Startled, he looked up at me and stared. "Nanny?" he asked, hiccuping.

I smiled at him. He wailed again and crawled into my lap. I cradled him close to me, soothing him into a fitful sleep. Due to his tantrum, he was out like a light. I didn't leave him there though. I carried him out, passing Ms. Cleveland on my way.

"Where are you going?" she asked passively.

"Upstairs. The maids need to clean up his room. If anyone here actually cares, you have my number." I spat it out venomously, appalled that she could leave a child to fend for himself in a room like that.

Grayer didn't stay asleep for very long. He woke up soon as he could smell Tony's mother making dinner. It had surprised me at first too, that she actually cooked. An even bigger surprise was that she was a good cook. He almost began to cry, until he saw me again. He latched onto me and started to ask me questions that only patience could answer.

"How come Mom doesn't live there anymore? How come you went away? Why is that mean lady there? Where did you go? Where's Mom?"

I could easily answer most of those questions, but not in terms that a five-year-old would understand. "I didn't want to go away, G, I promise. Now I'm back though, everything will be okay." That's all I actually said to him. "How old are you now?"

By nightfall, I had him distracted with coloring books. Tony's mom had already told him that they could make cookies the next day. It looked like I wasn't alone with this. Grayer adored my almost-mother-in-law. He was surprised as all get-out that I still had Grace. Now that she wasn't so yappy, he kind of liked her. It seemed almost picturesque. I had my little Grayer back, at least for now.

--

One day, I returned to the apartment with Grayer in tow. He had just gotten out of school not even an hour ago, and was eating his ice cream with delight when we walked into chaos. Police officers were swarming the place. There were people in suits, detectives, officers, people with or without badges, some people eyeing valuables and others eyeing those who were eyeing the valuables. Amongst all of it, I saw Maria trying to console an inconsolable Ms. Cleveland who sat on the couch, sobbing with her head in her hands. I thought it before I could really filter it, but I thought that she deserved whatever had made her cry. I picked Grayer up to make sure that I didn't lose him, and one woman in a slick suit came up to me.

"My name is Marian, and I'm from Social Services," she told me quietly. "We're going to need to take him."

I stared and protectively moved him further away from her. He understood what she had said and had begun to cry already. "No," I said flatly. "I'm charged with his welfare, you'll tell me what happened before you get him away from me."

The social worker gave a deep sigh and then waved me toward Grayer's bedroom. I soothed him, telling him that I wasn't going anywhere. He dropped his ice cream on the floor in order to hold more tightly to me. I didn't care. I sat him on his bed as I calmed him down, giving him a set of Legos to play with. They would hopefully keep him busy. Meanwhile, I went back to the social worker who had waited patiently at the door. "Grayer," I called back to him. He looked expectantly up at me. "I'm going to go talk to the nice lady, I'm not going to close the door. I'll be right outside. Okay?" He looked unsure, but trusted me and so he nodded his head. I shut the door halfway behind me, making sure that we were out of earshot. "What happened?" I demanded.

The woman looked tired, and my heart went out to her, really. "The former Mrs. X," (she refused to give up her last name), "lost it today. She shot Mr. X in his office, and then shot herself. They're both dead."

It took a moment for the words to hit me, and the first thing I thought was what was going to happen to Grayer. Ms. Cleveland in there sure as hell wouldn't take him, even if I would trust her with him. His only living family was Elizabeth X, Mr. X's mother, but he hadn't seen her since the Nantucket trip. Even then, he seemed like he hated her. I sighed. "Where are you going to take him?"

"A group home, probably for awhile, until we can figure out where he's going to end up."

I shook my head. "He wouldn't last a day in one of those. Leave him with me. I live a few floors up, I'm with him every day."

"I'm afraid we can't do that..."

"Don't do this to him. You don't get it. I've been around him for almost two years now. He likes me more than both of his parents put together, but if anyone's going to tell him that they're gone, it's going to be me. He needs me. Please. I swear I'll be in touch, I won't leave the state."

She eyed me. "Now you're acting like a criminal."

I shrugged. "No, I just know the social system. I'll be charged with kidnapping if he disappears. Really, just leave him with me. He can go about his normal routine."

She sighed. My eyes pleaded with her. She caved. "If anyone ever finds out about this, I'll be screwed."

"Who ever checks the social system?" I pointed out.

"You've got a point, lady... Let me take down your information..."

Not six months after I got my job back, shortly after Grayer's sixth birthday, the prior Mrs. X got so into her own personal problems that she went to Mr. X's office and shot him, and then shot herself. Somehow, Ms. Cleveland managed to get most of the insurance money after his death. This left Grayer with no parents left at all, and nobody that really cared about him – except for me. Though everyone told me it was the biggest damn responsibility that I'd ever taken on, I fought the social services for him until they decided that, in this case, they could leave him with me until family was contacted. I was familiar, I was his main caregiver, end of story. I had plenty of people to vouch for me too. The only family of Grayer's that I could remember ever meeting or hearing of was Mr. X's mother, Elizabeth. Grayer had protested so earnestly to going with her that I had to fight against it. I knew the woman wouldn't go for me.

Still, there I sat at a meeting with the woman. Instead of the informal thing I thought it should've been, I felt like I was at an internship interview. She stared at me with those sharp eyes. My lawyer sat beside me (funded in full by my grandmother), and she hadn't bothered to bring a lawyer. "Look," she told me, her voice as sharp as her eyes, "I am his last living family. He needs to be with family."

I rolled my eyes. "The last time he saw you was – what – Nantucket?"

"Yes."

"I see him every day. I've given him more baths than his own mother probably ever did, I know where all of his schools are, who all of his friends are, what his favorite toys, books, and foods are, what he likes, what he doesn't like, when he needs a nap, when he wants juice but doesn't want to ask..."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure any other nanny could easily take your place."

"Do you understand what that would do to him? He's got enough emotional trauma going on from his parents, just let him stay with me. He likes being around me."

The lawyer pushed her horn-rim glasses up further on her nose. "How do we know that?"

"Ask anyone that he or I knows. Ask him. He's six, that's old enough to say what he likes and what he doesn't, right?"

My lawyer gave a half-shrug. "It's not old enough to say what's best for him."

I put my head in my hands. "Mrs. X, please," I said quietly. I looked up at her. "I won't even ask for any financial backing for him. You don't have to pay for anything, I don't want any money from you. I'll take him off your hands. If you want to see him on holidays, have him for vacations, fine. Please, just let me take him. Please."

"Do you know what that would require, young lady?" her lawyer snapped.

I looked right back at her. "She would have to surrender custody to me and I would adopt him. Claim full financial responsibility, for all of his welfare, schooling, insurance... I'm not stupid. I know what this calls for, and I'm more than willing to do it."

"Why?" Elizabeth X asked me. "Why do you want this so badly?"

Again, I studied the table. "Because," I said softly, "none of you ever really seemed to care about him. Sure, his parents may have loved him, but it was only because he was their son. You may love him too, but only because he's your grandson. Only because he's blood, and you would never tell him that to his face. I really do love him, Mrs. X, down to the bottom of my heart. I believe that I can do this. I want to do this. I want to be there for him, for always."

Her lawyer shot her a sideways glance. I knew I was earnest, and I tried to play that to them. I tried to make them understand why I wanted this so badly, why I would take a child that was never mine to begin with and raise him from where he was. Why would I bother to take in this supposed monster, and not ask for payment in return?

I stood, waiting, outside Grayer's school. Gram paid for his schools, but she told me that I was on my own for everything else. He was in the best of the best now, with no behavioral problems to speak of, great grades, and nothing to complain about. He was happy, for the most part. He understood that his parents weren't coming back for him, and as much as that had to have hurt him, he didn't seem to have any adverse affects from it. I was glad. Sometimes, kids at his age just put that stuff aside for a later day when they can actually understand what happened. I dread the day he finally asks me the details about his parents' deaths.

Elizabeth X hadn't called once since she handed her grandson to me in the social services office on that stuffy summer day. She sent a check every Christmas and every birthday of his, and all of them went straight into his college fund. He didn't even know about them. Grayer had been with me to watch as I signed the papers that gave me the authority as his official, parental guardian – his adoptive mother. Social services didn't seem too concerned when I said that there wasn't really going to be an incredibly stable father figure. I suppose that was because he hadn't had one to begin with. Grayer hugged on my leg and grinned up at me with his two front teeth missing, proud to call me his Nanny. He understood the concept that I would be the only one taking care of him from then on.

Instead of mourning the loss of all of his expensive toys and clothing (most of which were sold by Ms. Cleveland), he moved on and played with the toys he received from various doters. Instead of shopping for clothes at Armani and Chanel Bebe for clothes, he got clothes from Target and Wal-Mart, and delighted in the fact that he could get them as dirty as he felt like that day. Instead of talking to a therapist about what he should call me, I let him call me what he wanted to, so long as he asked me first. He insisted on Nanny for a long while.

But as I walked him away from his third-grade class one day in spring, he turned to me with an unreadable look on his face. "Nanny?" he ventured cautiously.

"Yes, Grover?"

"I've been thinking," he said, with all the seriousness that an eight-year-old boy can muster. "Everyone has a mom and a dad. I had a mom and a dad, right?"

I nodded. Uh-oh. Dangerous territory.

"But they died. I remember when you signed those papers at the office, and they said that you were my paren.. pernatal..."

"Parental guardian," I prompted him.

He nodded. "Yeah, that," he said decidedly. "So if you're that, aren't you like a mom?"

Shrugging, I nodded my head again and looked down at him. "Yeah, I suppose. Why?"

"How come I don't call you Mom?"

I looked for an answer. Really, I did. I didn't want to, but for the sake of everything in his little heart, I searched for a good answer to his question. Finally, I responded with a, "You never asked."

"Can I call you Mom?" he asked hopefully. Too hopefully.

Throwing caution to the wind, which I find happens a lot during the parenting process, I nodded my head. "Sure, G," I told him, smiling lightly as he jumped in every puddle he found on the way home. I let him.

It dawned on me then that I had gone from stranger, to friend, to nanny, to mother to one child in the span of about four years. It occurred to me that most babysitters in uptown New York, or really any high-class society, were just replacement mothers. The child became more emotionally attached to them than their actual mothers. I don't think Grayer even cried when I told him his mother wasn't coming back ,ever. In this case, I had really been the replacement. I told myself then that I would never let anyone replace me for him. Never.

Can you believe I just read that book in one day? This is a quickie fanfic... I don't write fanfics with plots anymore.

If you're hankering for some better stuff by me, go look me up on fictionpress. Devabbi. Winning Redorworld. It's good stuff, promise.