A/N: I've missed writing for them! I'm not sure what this is though. A drabble, I suppose, or a oneshot? I just felt like writing and this is what came out. Have some other small things in the works and then a bigger project. Let me know your thoughts if you feel like it. ;)

Beginnings and Endings

"Miss Babcock?"

He hadn't expected to find her out here on the balcony. When she had slipped away earlier he had assumed that she had gone home while nobody was paying enough attention to ask her any unwanted questions. He had known, of course, that the day would be challenging for her which served to make him even more confused as to why she was still lingering here. He had only noticed her in passing, really, on his way to the restrooms where he'd been hoping to have a couple of minutes of peace himself.

C.C. hadn't moved since his arrival and although he wasn't certain if she simply hadn't heard him or was waiting for him to leave again, he took another step closer.

"Can you still remember their wedding?"

Her voice sounded soft and tired, lacking the usual steel or bite.

"Yes." He confirmed, taking another step so he came to stand behind her.

It was unnecessary to ask who she was referring to.

"Has it really been that long already?"

He paused and carefully considered her question.

"Master Brighton's nearly old enough to apply for Universities. But I'm not sure if that's what you're asking…"

"No," she shook her head without looking at him.

"I don't think there is an appropriate time, Miss Babcock. Weeks, months and years aren't the right tool to measure grief. But you know as well as I do that he still loves her even though he's married Miss Fine."

"I don't think I'll ever understand how that works."

The urge to tease her overcame him as suddenly as it always did but he couldn't shake the sound of her voice, the resignation in it. Perhaps his friend's therapist had been right when he had said that he used his humour not only to relate to other people but also to keep things light enough so he would never really have to get to know them.

"It's not easy. Mr Sheffield felt guilty very often."

"And yet…" she sighed and pensively chewed her lip, "I suppose it's impossible to understand when you've never formed any such attachments yourself."

"You haven't? Not even with him?"

He tried keeping his tone light and conversational instead of curious.

"Are you asking me if I loved him?"

Restlessness made his stomach churn at the mention of the word alone. They were balancing on a knife's edge without her knowing it.

Did he want to hear it? Did he really want to find out the truth?

He had always prepared himself for the worst but he wondered now if their relationship – complicated and whatever else it might be – could withstand it. Would the pieces fall apart and then neatly come together again? Or would they create a grotesque mosaic instead?

"Yes," he finally replied and his eyes dropped down to her neckline and clung on to the piece of jewellery that adorned it as if he was clutching a rail.

She sucked in another slither of air before releasing it once more.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps I did…perhaps it was the idea of him. When he kissed me…that time in the library when you saw us? That felt great. He felt great…different…It was as if Sara was back…"

She stopped and laughed softly, nervously.

"I suppose that sounds crazy. But it was as if between the two of us we were bringing her back…or maybe we just got rid of the emptiness…of that shitty darkness that seemed to hang over the house. And I got used to that, refused to be without it. I wanted…something. You know me," her chuckle came forced and strained this time, "I'm not very good at identifying my feelings…but there was suddenly a desire in me that I only noticed when it wasn't being fulfilled anymore. If that's love then, yes, I suppose I loved him."

"Is that why you're out here?" he probed carefully and held his breath when she turned to look at him.

But her cheeks were dry and her eyes focused, if also he could find the same tiredness he had detected in her voice in them.

"No…" she replied and the corner of her mouth got tugged upwards in a small, sad smile. "I'm here because I needed a moment for myself to come to a decision."

"And have you?" he asked, making sure to hold the eye contact as if the slightest variation could cause an irreparable break to this rare moment of perfect, direct honesty.

"Yes. I have accepted now that with Sara gone I'm not needed at the house like you are. So I am going to wait until Maxwell returns from his honeymoon and then I will hand in my resignation."

"Because of him?" Niles frowned, gripping on to her hands as if that would prevent her from walking out of his life.

"Not entirely, no." She squeezed his in return. "There's a lot I can live with but feeling unnecessary or without purpose isn't one of them. I don't have much else in life, Niles, so I have to go looking for at least that."

She started to release him, started brushing past him and although he knew that it would still be weeks before she left completely, it was as if she was already beginning to fade.

And without her in his life what did he have? No matter how infuriating their relationship had been over the last decades, he had never expected her not to be there. So where did that leave him?

"Miss Babcock?"

She turned just before reaching the balcony doors.

"Would you like to go for a drink before you return home?"