Prologue

First Day Of My Life

"Are you ready to go, Miss Babcock?" the young nurse asked from her hospital room's door. The girl had attended to C.C. during both of her visits to the clinic, and was one of the few members of the staff who C.C. had come to trust – apart from Dr. Bort, obviously. The girl had kept her company on many of her worst days, and even if C.C.'s first impression of her was a bad one (She was far too cheerful for the blonde's taste, and she bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain Nanny), she had come to genuinely like her. Even though she had tried, she hadn't been able to remember her name –it was something like Hannah or Haylie, she didn't know for sure. But the nurse had never seemed to be bothered by this; as a matter of fact she had told the producer she found it quite funny. "Miss Babcock, are you listening?"

C.C. hadn't turned around since the nurse had gotten into the room, for she was focused on staring outside her window. The producer's gaze was fixed on a mockingbird sitting on a nearby tree branch – the bird had recently hatched a few eggs, and only yesterday C.C. had seen the little hatchlings emerging from them. The bird was feeding them, and for some reason C.C. found the sight of it interesting. Well, if she was being honest, during her inpatient time she had learnt to amuse herself with little, and nature was one of the few things in which she got lost easily. The hospital had enormous gardens, so the blonde had made a habit of going out for a walk every morning after she woke up.

Her mind was currently jumbled with thoughts. The dreaded day of her discharge had come once again and – unlike the first time she was at the clinic – she didn't want to go back. She wasn't going back, really... not after her last conversation with Bort. But still, the fear of slipping back into her old habits once she was out of the clinic was there, lurking in the back of her mind.

In retrospective, C.C. now realised that she had been discharged far too soon the first time she was there, and the proof of this was her rushing back to the clinic after spending only one day at the Sheffield mansion. This time, however, she believed it was time for her to go back, only not to her old life. Her second stay at the hospital had been … enlightening? Yes, that's the word that popped in her mind: enlightening. She remembered she had spent the first days after her second admittance to the clinic walking around the premises, trying to understand what had caused her to relapse – and she had always gotten to the same conclusion: The Sheffield household.

She discussed this thought with Bort, and her therapist had agreed with her reasoning; the Sheffield mansion was not the ideal place for her to go back while she was in recovery. There she was exposed to a number of stressing situations, including Niles' incessant pranks and catty comments, and Maxwell and Nanny Fine's impending nuptials. C.C. had come to the conclusion that she needed to distance herself from them – at least for some time, in order to heal.

She had to deal with an inner turmoil that just couldn't be solved if she went back to her old surroundings, and she had yet to understand many things about herself and about the causes that had led to her breakdown. Bort had said that C.C. had finally understood how pointless pining after Maxwell had been, and after losing him and her work, she had been left with nothing. She was nothing. And she was right…

C.C. had realised her life had been defined by trying to become Mrs. Sheffield, and being the driving force behind the company; when she had been stripped of all of that, she had lost herself, she had lost her own identity. She had been almost ethereal, devoid of content or purpose… That's enough to drive anyone over the edge.

It took her long, but she had made a decision, and she was getting as far away as possible from the Sheffield's and from Niles. Speaking of the butler, he had been one of the recurrent topics of conversation with her psychiatrist; Bort had pointed out C.C. spent an awful lot of time talking about someone she supposedly hated, and had suggested that – perhaps – there was more than met the eye between them. C.C. had been reluctant to accept the idea at the beginning, but the more she thought about it, the more sense it made. Niles was one of the longest and most stable relationships C.C. had in her life, and even if they fought like cat and dog, she had considered they were friends (in their own twisted way). Now, the problem was that things between them had changed since the infamous kiss in the den. Although it had been alcohol-fuelled, passion and an underlying sexual tension had their part in it. After many long and tiring sessions with her therapist, the producer had begrudgingly accepted she was attracted to Niles, but she was still reluctant to admit it was more than physical desire.

Bort had suggested she was afraid – afraid of what that admission entailed. The middle aged psychiatrist had received an unimpressed look as an answer, but Bort knew she had struck a nerve. She could read C.C. like a book, and no matter how hard the producer tried to deny it, she was certain C.C. harboured feelings for him. But she understood her reluctance; Niles had hurt her, after all.

Bort had been treating C.C. for over twenty years now, and if there was one thing her patient failed to do, it was opening up to others. The producer didn't have a good childhood, and her crude personality was a consequence of it. Since a young age she had strived to please others, and masked her true feelings behind a cold demeanour, which morphed into an ornery one as years went past. Her father had been absent most of her life, and her mother had never been a supportive parental figure either – quite the opposite in fact.

All this had led to the producer feeling like she didn't belong anywhere and bottle up her emotions, so – considering she also lacked an emotional support system – it was no wonder she had important emotional issues, or that she had recurred to alcohol and prescription drugs as unhealthy coping mechanisms.

Now, going back to the butler, she had noticed her patient and Niles had started getting closer almost a year ago. They had bonded gradually, and little by little the animosity between them had toned down, whilst their banter became almost good natured. They joked with each other, and Bort had seen C.C. visibly happier than ever before. However, everything came to an abrupt end when the butler pranked her after his heart attack; Niles had hurt her a lot with that underhanded trick and, as a consequence, the closeness they had been sharing had instantly disappeared. C.C. had pushed him away, and had recurred to ingesting outrageous amounts of alcohol to numb the pain. Topping insult to injury, his pranks became progressively crueller with time, and eventually, the combined pressure of his quips and the wedding, had resulted in C.C. crumbling down.

So, after being in a treatment centre for five months, C.C. had finally taken a hard decision: she had to go away. The producer had decided to travel abroad, and took her time to carefully choose a destination – which she had talked over with Bort and had received her approval.

But one thing was talking about going away, and another one was actually doing it…

"Miss Babcock, are you alright?" the nurse's voice brought C.C. out of her reverie, and she finally turned to face her.

"Yes, I am alright… uh…."

"Haylie," the girl offered, a gentle smile playing across her lips.

"Haylie," C.C. repeated, as though it was the first time she had heard that name. "That's right. And yes, I am ready to go," the producer crossed the room in confident strides, her only suitcase clutched in her left hand.

"Then follow me, you need to complete some forms before you are discharged and we'll provide you with all the meds that you were prescribed. The cab you called is already waiting for you outside, so I suggest we hurry up," Hailey informed the producer as she headed outside the room, C.C. following her closely.

Both women walked down the long hospital corridor in silence, eventually reaching the hospital's vestibule. There was a wide circular front desk in the middle of it, and C.C. spotted the familiar discharge papers laying on top it. Hailey handed her a pen and the producer then scribbled her signature on the marked places before returning both the forms and the pen . Hailey then handed her a little bag which contained her numerous meds, and walked her to the door.

C.C. stood in the doorframe for a long time, trying to delay her departure for as long as possible. The fears assaulting her were too many, and her courage was too little. What if she went back inside? Perhaps staying at the clinic for another month or so…?

"You have to go, Miss Babcock. You are ready," Hailey spoke softly and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you are scared, but it's time to face the music."

"I am not scared," the blonde producer hissed, shrugging her shoulders.

"Then why are you still standing here?"

C.C. couldn't answer the question, so she just bit her lower lip and looked down at the floor. Damned child, she thought, why was she able to see through her? C.C. eventually straightened her posture, glanced down at Haylie and flashed a small smile at her. "Touché. I guess sometimes leaving is hard."

"Change can be scary, but sometimes it's necessary. You will be ok, Miss Babcock, have faith in you! You told me Dr. Bort said you've made more progress during these past months than during all the last five years combined!" Haylie nudged her in the ribs, teasingly.

C.C. gave a soft nod, and began walking towards the cab alongside her nurse. "I know, I know," she mustered.

Haylie helped her put her suitcase on the trunk and politely opened the door for her. Just before the blonde producer climbed onto the backseat of the car, she turned to her nurse and gave her a quick hug. Haylie knew just how much it meant, coming from her.

"Good luck, Miss Babcock, and goodbye too."

"Goodbye, Haylie."

The two women smiled at each other, and finally C.C. got into the cab. As the car began its way back to the city, the producer observed the outline of the hospital in the distance. It became progressively smaller, until she couldn't see it anymore. She released a long sigh while she made herself comfortable in the backseat –she was finally going back, and she could only hope things worked out this time.