Hey all! I know this isn't exactly a popular area to write in, but I don't particularly care. . . This is a spin-off of "The Thing," and how I imagined Maxwell might have reacted under slightly different circumstances. "The Nanny" is not mine, nor any gorgeous British guys employed therein, obviously. Please R&R!
As usual, Maxwell had buggered things up.
It had not truly been his fault at the beginning; Miss Fine had strode into his office and perched herself on the edge of his desk as she had on countless occasions, smoothing her skirt and smiling sexily at him, her cat-like brown eyes suggestive and flirty.
Of course, he never minded that part.
But then she brought up that topic again. . . The Thing.
"So Mr. Sheffield," Fran began in her annoyingly nasal voice that he never seemed to get enough of, "you know, I've been thinking."
"Oh?" Maxwell replied, wearily setting down the newspaper that boldly said "'CATS' HIT RECORD NUMBER OF SHOWS! OPENING IN TWELVE NEW CITIES!" He defiantly put his coffee cup down on top of Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber's face and glanced up at his nanny. "What about, Miss Fine?"
She slowly crossed her long legs, enjoying the way his eyes widened slightly. "Oh, ya know. . . the Thing."
Maxwell silently groaned and prepared himself for a battle. "Ah. Yes." And, feeling he had not been articulate enough, said, "That."
"I just don't understand why!" Fran exclaimed, staring at him imploringly. "Obviously you've got to feel something for me if you said you loved me, so why do you keep stringing me along like this?! Why'd you have to go and take it back?!"
"Miss Fine, I have already told you, I said what I said up there, in that place, under those circumstances!" He got to his feet and started pacing agitatedly. "I don't see why you have to keep beating a dead horse! It's over and done with! I told you that I can't be with you!"
"I—" Fran started to say, but looked suspiciously at the door. Picking up Maxwell's coffee cup, she strode over to it and splashed a bit of the scalding beverage through the keyhole. Both of them heard a distinct "AUGH!" from the other side and the sound of rushing footsteps, which was obviously Niles running to get the coffee out of his ear. Fran then turned back to Maxwell, downing the rest of the coffee and slamming the cup back on his desk.
"You said you loved me," she cried, "and then you took it away! If you're thinking that before you die, then you've got to actually feel that way about me! Why won't you just TELL ME THAT YOU LOVE ME?! Are you that afraid?! Am I that intimidating?!" She grabbed his jacket and yanked him toward her. "WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING WRONG?!"
Maxwell could only stare at her a few moments before finding his voice. "Please don't make me do this, Miss Fine. You don't know what you're asking. Anything between us just presents too many complications!"
Fran let go of Maxwell and glared at him in disgust. "You're worried about the children," she said in a faintly mocking British accent. "You're worried that we'll break up and that'll ruin everything! You want to stay loyal to your wife—"
"Leave her out of this!" Maxwell suddenly said, anger blazing up inside of him. "Don't talk about that! You didn't know Sarah! You don't know anything about her!"
"That's what this is about, isn't it?" Fran exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "You're just afraid that you're betraying her if you end up with me, aren't you? You'll be loyal to her forever! Do you think this is how she wanted you to end up? Miserable and alone until the day you die?! I've been here for three years. You act like you want to be with me, then you change your mind. This isn't fair to me, Mr. Sheffield, and it's not fair to you either! You think—"
"At least I have someone to stay loyal to, Miss Fine! I owe her that much!" Maxwell yelled. "So I'm attracted to you! I'm not going to do anything about it! I CAN'T do anything about it! I refuse to!"
"Doesn't it ever bother you?" Fran hissed, stepping toward him. "That I go date tons of other guys? How am I supposed to find somebody else if you keep messing with my heart? Did you do THAT to your wife, Mr. Sheffield? Did you mess around with her heart, too?!"
"Miss Fine," Maxwell said in a low, shaking voice, pointing at the doorway, "get out of my office."
Fran's eyes widened, and she actually found herself speechless. "What?" she finally managed to say.
"Get out. . . of my office," he said again through gritted teeth. There was a cold fury inside of him, rising so quickly that he found he almost wanted to hit Fran. "Get out of here. Never talk to me about this again."
Stunned, Fran just stood there.
"GET OUT!" Maxwell suddenly shouted, and Fran let out a yelp and scurried toward the doorway, pulling it open and tripping over Niles. The butler was looking almost as shocked as the nanny, but Maxwell did not want to see it; he ran over to the door and slammed it so hard that the paintings on his wall tilted.
He turned around and stared at his desk, his chest rising and falling heavily.
He should not have yelled at Miss Fine.
But she had been talking about Sarah as though she KNEW her! She had the nerve to say that he had hurt his wife, yanked her heartstrings!
. . . But he yelled at Miss Fine.
Yelled at her.
Maxwell leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to the floor, not even caring about Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber and the rest of the world.
Fran was hysterical, tossing things into her suitcase at random. Niles was behind her, trying to calm her down.
"Miss Fine, please don't do this!" he cried, watching as Fran yanked open a drawer and pulled out a multitude of lacy bras. "Why are you doing this? How is this different from anything that's happened before?!"
"He hates me, Niles," Fran sobbed, pulling out what seemed like the many thousands of shoes from her closet. "I pushed him too far! I talked to him about Sarah, and I asked him if she would've wanted him to be alone and miserable, and he just went berserk!"
Niles groaned and covered his eyes. If there was one thing bound to upset Mr. Sheffield, it was the subject of his late wife. And Fran definitely had the talent for upsetting her employer enough without even broaching that topic of discussion.
"I've got to get out of here," Fran moaned, zipping her bags shut and getting to her feet. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her beautiful face was pale. "I can't stay here any longer. I just can't look at him again." She grabbed Niles and hugged him tightly. "Thanks for everything, sweetie," she mumbled.
"Miss Fine!" Niles shouted, but Fran had pushed by him and was dragging her suitcases down the stairs. In the living room, Brighton, Maggie and Gracie were watching a movie. They looked up at her, puzzled.
"Going to visit your mom, Fran?" Brighton asked. "You want any help?"
Fran shook her head. It was about then they noticed she was crying.
"Fran, what's wrong?!" Maggie exclaimed, getting to her feet and hurrying over. "What happened?"
"Your father happened," Fran whispered, before hugging each child tightly. "I love you three, all right? Please, take care of yourselves. . . Maggie, make sure not to date guys who are more than five years older than you. . . Gracie, remember that you don't need to see any therapists. . . and Brighton? Remember how I told you to plagiarize your papers without getting caught, okay? I love you guys. . ."
"What?" Gracie gasped, standing there helplessly as Fran hefted her bags and walked resolutely toward the door. "No, Fran, NO! You can't leave!"
The children looked horror-struck. Fran's shoulders were shaking as she opened the door and stepped through it. She did not even look back, but then they realized that she could not; she was crying too hard.
The door shut behind her, and Nanny Fran Fine was gone.
Niles stared at the door, and then sprinted back up the stairwell, hearing the children's sobbing echoing behind him. He marched toward Mr. Sheffield's office and pushed it open without even knocking, something he had never done in all his years of working there.
Maxwell was seated at his desk again, though he was not working; his head was in his hands and he appeared to be in some sort of daze.
"I hope you're happy, sir," Niles said furiously, his voice cold and venomous. "Miss Fine has left us, thanks to what you said. And it doesn't look like she is ever coming back. So I hope you're pretty bloody pleased with yourself!"
The butler spun on his heel and slammed the door, not even bothering to witness Mr. Sheffield's terrified expression. Maxwell stared at the door in despair.
"Bugger," he whispered, his voice catching. "Oh, bugger."
More to come soon!