I am imagining this at the 5th season, soon after From Flushing with Love. I watched the episode again, and it's ridiculous how we never got to see the repercussions the end of the 'Unholy Alliance' created.
The situation in this is inspired by Schlepped Away, but I always think of Niles and CC, in terms of behavior and appearance, as they were in season 3 and 4, because I think both are at their cutest, then.
And close – as they should always be.
Evidence
Chapter 1: CC
She couldn't believe it was happening again.
She had been stranded in the Fines' house once, in the way to the airport; she thought it would never happen again – she took all the care in the world to not create the circumstances, not accepting lifts in snowy days, and especially not accepting invitations that included going to the Fines'.
But Fate was a bitch, and she accepted a lift home, and of course the Nanny had to go to Queen's first, and everybody obviously agreed (because common sense flew away from that family when that woman was concerned).
To top insult to injury, she even forgot to go to the bathroom before accepting the lift from the Sheffield clan plus the Servant Duo of Apocalypse. So, when they reached the damned place, all she could do was get out of the limo and run to the house to pee.
When she got out of the bathroom, relieved and feeling ready to get out of there even in the snowy weather to find a taxi if Sylvia couldn't call for one, everybody was already commenting what a coincidence that authorities had announced people should stay inside, and that they were trapped there again.
CC deflated immediately, with the feeling of déjà vu capturing her and making her sit, desolated.
It was mere three hours ago from the moment they got out of the mansion to take something Fran needed from her parents' house, to this moment.
CC just thought it would be all right if she accepted the offer of a lift.
And here she was, curled in a small ball, trying to keep any heat she could in order to sleep.
When Sylvia had said the heater in the living room was not in working order (and told a horribly gross story about how she and Morty had discovered it, involving cold feet and goosebumps and – oh, dear God, why so much information?!), people started deciding where and how they would sleep.
Soon it was decided that the girls would share a bed in Fran's old room, while the boys would occupy the floor of the same room.
(Everybody was anxious to preserve their hosts' privacy.)
She remembered Fran, Maggie and Grace looking among themselves, trying to discover how they would manage to fit all in one bed, and throwing glances at her from time to time. CC knew they wanted her to participate in the debate but were a bit wary to ask her to openly.
(She was familiar with the fear she brought on people. And she usually kept silent and let it linger as much as she could, just to see them squirm.
In this case, however, it had to do with a sense of dread at the possibility of staying in the same bed as other people.
She was raised without ever sharing beds with ever her siblings – her mother said it was not classy that children slept together as a litter. They always slept alone, no matter what happened – nightmares, night fears, the missing of their workaholic father – and CC kind of envied how easy it was for the Sheffield children to learn to share space after Nanny Fine arrived in their lives.
For CC, it was too late.)
Her attitude didn't stop the said Nanny for much time – soon the brunette called her and motioned for her to get closer and help them to solve the puzzle.
Obviously, CC stated she couldn't think of herself in such a situation as sharing a bed with other people, crossed her arms and blocked out the raised voices trying to reason with her.
However, she heard when Niles made a bitch joke; she just rolled her eyes, decided to ignore even him. There was no way she would let his influence over her made her an easy target – she was locking everybody out.
(In many situations, she just got involved – and sometimes in the eye of the storm – because she had to answer him. She had learned that teasing him back gave her a high that just alcohol could compare to.
But it took her out of her comfort zone – what alcohol had the advantage of not doing.
All she didn't want was getting out of her usual way, tonight.)
So, she didn't accept the banter. She just voiced again her decision of not sharing a bed.
And then, she heard clearly the barely contained despise in his voice when Niles said something about her being the Ice Queen and not minding to freeze alone in the sofa.
She was confused: he had agreed with her about her choice of location, but the way he said it carried a kind of anger she didn't know what meant.
And when she could think again, everybody had agreed with him and was going away to the bedroom to organize their things.
She even threw a quick glance at him and saw he had stayed behind, the look in his face showing he was as surprised at people's behavior as she was.
She knew he had looked at her for a moment, before opting for getting out of the room in silence.
Now, all she could think was that Niles' words were true: she must be made of ice, if she preferred the cold and loneliness instead of the company of other people.
Maybe she should die of hypothermia, alone in the living room of a low class Jewish family. The family of a woman who she uses to despise day-in, day-out.
CC trembled. Would it just be the cold? Or it was the recognition of the karma?
She fought to maintain her rational view on things. She was freezing and sincerely a bit frightened by the perspective of waking up very sick in the morning, but she would not let herself believe in stupid things as Fate and Karma.
Or Jewish curses.
She pushed the sleeves of her blouse (no one offered her acceptable pajamas, so she kept her label clothes in bed) and clenched her fingers to keep them covering her hands. She had put her overcoat on the covers Sylvia had brought to her, and the weight helped to keep some warmth.
For a moment, she wondered if it was how it felt to be a hobo in winter nights, trying to sleep under a pile of clothes while trying to not loose grasp on reality.
She, the rich socialite, was reduced to a quivering human being by her own choice, and that reality was not helping her to reach sleep.
Sometimes she mused on her life choices: she was relatively successful in her job (she wished she could be more, but Maxwell's name was always in front of hers); she had an useful circle of friends ('friends', in fact); she had dated some seriously successful men (all of them a bit frustrating and lacking interest to her when they were by themselves).
And her pursuit of Maxwell was so frustrating she couldn't think of anything more annoying...
(In fact, she could. Maxwell giving attention to such a floozy as Nanny Fine, instead of her, was very annoying).
So, her life was a list of almost-great things. Things that looked good on paper, but usually gave her half the expected satisfaction.
Then, what made her have the familiar thrill to get up from her bed every morning and go to the mansion? What did keep her going on?
In her slightly confused thoughts (it was difficult to think when you are cold and fighting the blunt of sadness), she realized she had not thought of the place she worked as Maxwell's house, but as the mansion.
She perceived that place as the one where she had the most interesting things of her day. There, she felt as at ease as if the place was hers. Maybe even better, because she didn't have to worry about taking care of things (the place was not hers), or maintaining an acceptable behavior (people there already knew her – there was really little to hide).
It was almost impossible to believe, but she felt accepted, in the mansion. People there were sincere about how they felt about her, but none of them ever seriously found her unbearable.
(She remembered her father saying, once, 'You must behave, kitten', and her mother adding, She is often like this - unbearable'.
She always tried so hard, and still failed.
Years of therapy showed her it was her infant mind that believed she was a failure, but the pain was still there when someone said it was impossible to be near her, or with her.
With the years passing by, and Niles insistently joking about her going away in the most imaginative ways, she realized the pain had diminished. She recognized the most the subject was brought on, the less serious and difficult it turned to be.
There is a limit for the number of times a man can say you should take your broom and go home and still make you feel any pain. It soon turns into anger, then into annoyance, and then into a strange urge to answer back and accept the game for what it was – a battle of wits.)
Again, about the good feeling she had over the mansion: if the point was not her job (yelling at people on the phone was thrilling, but couldn't be her own hobby), not Maxwell (who was just working and/or distracted by familiar shenanigans), it just could be the nanny (who she hated deeply, for all she represented), the children (who could be amusing, but she didn't care that much for them), or Niles...
Here, recoiled in a little ball, trembling in the cold, CC could admit that she didn't think of him as the butler. He was a person, to her: an intelligent man, charming, funny (she enjoyed his zingers – she could live without the practical jokes, but, well, she had to admit the desire to outsmart him was a good incentive). She enjoyed their chatting and, when they were alone, he often talked to her as an adult. Or, at least, made clear the teasing was just teasing, not meant to really offend.
It was a pity he was so mean to her when other people were at stake. She didn't quite understand why he changed his attitude when other people were around.
It intrigued her, but she couldn't bring herself to think about it now, in these adverse conditions. It usually tired her; now, it made her thinking process simply halt in desorientation.
What she was sure was that, if Niles and herself joined forces, they would be undefeatable.
Well, they had just joined forces against Nanny Fine last December, and it had been awesome!
Not just the fact they had been mean to the woman she hated and he usually adored.
It was not just about ganging up against Nanny Fine.
It was more about spending time together.
And even more about discovering they were really similar and could become affectionate to each other very easily.
January was reaching its end, that thing with Niles was more than one month old, and she still dedicated her nights to drink tea, at night, while looking through her big window to the New York view and remember the warm feeling she had when he went there to pick her up – for their pottery classes, for dinner out, for drinks.
A vivid warm feeling.
Warm – nothing like what she was experiencing now.
In fact, she understood why he had cut their relationship short. It was getting too much into a very short time.
She remembered the first time he insisted taking her home after she had stayed at the Sheffields' after dinner. Everybody had retired, and he said it was late and she should not go away alone.
She remembered next night, the first time she invited him in, and they started the tradition of tea and conversation.
She remembered the last night he took her to her door, and how the conversation was so great it felt absurd not to invite him to come in. Again.
That night, they dedicated some time to plotting how to make Nanny Fine suffer in the next day, but soon they were talking about things in general.
The theater, the news, the weather.
How an actor had been provoking her wrath and how she had been dealing with him.
How the children had finally learnt not to eat in the living room without napkins, no matter what they saw the Fines doing.
She remembered his satisfied smile while sitting at her sofa with a mug of tea he had made, at a respectful distance from her, who was very comfortable at the same sofa.
He kept looking at her fondly while they exchanged impressions over things shared.
She remembered the way she foolishly decided to set herself up, commenting she was not used to tea at night, but to hard drinks.
She remembered how he shook his head and answered she should not chastise herself, and just enjoy the novelties when they came.
And then he easily brought up a new topic of conversation, and they kept chatting and teasing and being just happy together for a lot of time.
It was really late when he went home, that night.
She remembered how both hesitated when he looked at his watch and said that maybe he should go.
They got up, locked stares, and were frozen for some long moments, realizing they didn't want to part.
In fact, it was obvious to her that they wanted to get closer.
For God' sake, what was wrong with them?!
They had a truce, but it didn't mean they really liked each other. They had united for a cause.
Wasn't it?
CC remembered how she forced herself to look away, and ended up looking at his hands.
She saw he had closed his fists on his sides, as she knows he does when he fights for control.
He looked away and said, with a lot of effort apparent in his voice, 'It has been some time that I didn't feel so good'. And he glanced at her for a moment, 'Thank you'.
They exchanged smiles over that, and he almost ran to the door and stopped there, waiting nervously for her to open it for him.
She did it and let him go with a barely audible 'Good night, Miss Babcock'.
It was as if any moment more with her could provoke something... that shouldn't be.
CC put her hands under her armpits. The cold was making it impossible to sleep, even if the thoughts were making her tired.
Her feet hurt a bit, and she had a strange urge of crying.
She felt so stupid and so alone, and it was impossible to do anything to remedy that.
It was too late for her.
Even the most intelligent guy around couldn't bring himself to... no, he wouldn't let himself to like her.
The evidences that both enjoyed each other's company were all there, but neither of them wanted to deal with that, because he had a soul and she was...
... the Ice Queen.
And she had no hope of changing it.
