Chapter 2

New Eden Clinic

"But C.C., it doesn't make any sense!" Noel screamed, banging his hand against her coffee table. "You do need to tell the Sheffields and our parents about this!"

"No I don't, Noel, and this is not open for a discussion. I don't want anyone else to know, okay?! Now, instead of losing time in fighting a battle you can't win, why don't we get down to business, hm?" C.C. replied sharply. Just as she had expected, her brother didn't understand why she wanted to keep it a secret, but she wasn't going to change her mind. She was going to do this alone, and that was it.

Noel glared at her, but conceded defeat. He knew his sister, and when she got something in her mind no one could make her change it. "Fine... fine. But I don't agree with this."

"I don't recall having asked for your blessing."

"I know, but even if you had, I don't agree with this. However, I know you won't change your mind," Noel leaned against the back of one of her sofas, holding an almost empty cup of tea in his hand.

"I am glad we are on the same page. Now, what was that clinic you were telling me about?" C.C. asked over the rim of her own cup of tea.

"Ah, yes... I found you an oncologist; his name is Gregory Wilson and he happens to work at New Eden Clinic, the hospital I want you to get treated in."

"But what is so special about this clinic, Noel?" C.C. asked, pouring some more tea into her brother's cup.

"You see, this clinic is a – shall we say – elite residential treatment centre. It's owned by a friend of mine who suffered from cancer a few years ago; he created this place for people with money who want privacy as well as proper cancer treatment."

"Hm," the producer bit the inside of her lip, still more than a little sceptical.

The words "elite", "proper", and "privacy" all sounded just about right, in her head. If she was going to keep as many people as possible from finding out about this, discretion was key. And as long as this hospital got their money, they'd probably be as silent as she liked. And if they could get rid of her illness, then all the better.

Not that she liked the prospect of having to go away for an extended period of time. The company would literally be split in half for all the days she wasn't there, and she doubted Maxwell would get everything done to keep them up and completely running by himself. Well, if she heard about a sudden lack of plays from Sheffield-Babcock Productions, she'd know why.

It wasn't like she could really refuse to be treated somewhere.

Well, she could, and she doubted most people would care if she did. She could, in theory, go away and spend the last few months of her life travelling, not bothering to let anyone know where she was going or what was happening to her. No one would even know until she turned up on an autopsy table somewhere, and someone had to go to it in order to identify the body.

But she wasn't going to do that. She knew it was stupid of her to even contemplate throwing her life away like that when she was being presented with a way out.

Not a bad sounding way out, either. Granted, the treatment would most likely be hell, but it was still treatment. And Noel had recommended the place...

She swallowed, "How do I go about being admitted?"

Noel delved into his pocket for an information booklet and handed it to C.C., who began browsing through it. The place truly looked wonderful – the clinic was not only located in the suburbs, far away from the bustling city and any unwanted company, but it also counted with numerous facilities that the patients could use while staying there; it had a library, an art room, a music room, incredible gardens, and even its very own cinema! The patients' rooms were also a sight to be seen; they were enormous, to start with, and each of them counted with a bathroom and a walk-in closet.

This clinic was exactly what she needed…

In a sense, it was like a five star hotel that provided medical care – and speaking of that, the medical staff that worked there was the best money could pay for.

She hadn't liked the idea of having to spend time in a hospital, but now it didn't really sound so bad. The clinic was comfortable beyond any imaginings, the staff was excellent and it offered the opportunity to rest and recover in a nice and tranquil environment. Needless to say, if she was admitted, she wasn't planning on telling anyone about it.

"You needn't worry about that, sister," Noel smiled at her. "As I said, the clinic is owned by a friend of mine, so I've already given him a call and he told me that he'll get you a room. The only thing we have to do is get you to see their best oncologist, Doctor Gregory Wilson, and after he has determined your staging and planned your treatment, you'll be admitted."

Well… that settled it, then. In just a few hours her brother had taken care of everything and she couldn't be more thankful. There was a reason why she had trusted him in the first place, and this was only further proof that she had made the right choice. The months to come were going to be incredibly hard, but knowing that Noel had her back and would do anything in his reach to make this more bearable for her, gave C.C. some peace of mind.

Now she only needed the perfect alibi to get away from the mansion without any of its inhabitants suspecting where she was really going… well, she still had time to think about how she'd get away, so for now she had to focus on planning her treatment. And the first step was visiting this oncologist.

"When can I see him? Do I need to make an appointment?" the producer asked.

"Actually, I took the liberty to call and say you'd be going at 2:00 PM."

C.C. glanced at her wristwatch and almost jumped out of the sofa. It was 1:15PM! She had to be at the doctor in less than an hour and she hadn't even put on her make up! Besides, she also had to be at the mansion at that same time, so she needed to come up with a decent excuse for her absence.

"Noel! You should have told me earlier! Now do me a favour, call the mansion and tell them that I… that my hand hurts and that we are going to the doctor to get it checked."

It wasn't a complete lie, she thought bitterly; her hand did hurt. Not that she'd tell Niles, but yesterday she had actually gone to the hospital to get it checked after she had left the mansion and, much to her chagrin, it had needed a couple of stitches. "Now I'll go get ready so we can leave for the clinic, alright?"

"Alright," he nodded in reply, picking up the phone and pressing the speed dial. "It shouldn't take too long to get there, don't worry."

C.C. was beyond worrying at this stage, hurrying around trying to get everything together. For now, all she figured she'd need was her purse and anything she could fit inside – money, make-up (just freshly applied), keys, etcetera. She didn't know how long it would take for this Dr Wilson to plan her treatment, but stopping to consider what she'd do about the penthouse and Chester in the meantime couldn't hurt.

Whatever she had in mind for that would have to feature in her alibi, whatever that would be.

As she busied herself with getting ready, she couldn't help but listen in on Noel on the phone with the mansion. Judging from the way he was speaking, it wasn't Niles that had picked up. He must have been out, and it was either Nanny Fine or Maxwell on the other end. Judging from the fact that she couldn't hear anything coming from the phone, she'd make a safe bet at Maxwell.

"No, no… she'll be just fine," her brother smiled, and nodded up at her before continuing his conversation. She knew he was trying to be both encouraging and trying to make it seem convincing for her employer, but she knew he couldn't really make that kind of judgement.

Of course he wanted her to be "just fine", but they had a long way to go before it was safe to assume that she'd be in any kind of realm of "fine".

With a heavy sigh, she slung her purse strap over her shoulder, and approached him.

"I'm ready, whenever you are," she said. "If you'd mind cutting short the chit-chat?"

Noel nodded minutely. He knew C.C. wanted to go and get this over and done with – truth to be told, he wanted so, too…

"Ah, Maxwell, I am sorry to cut the conversation short, but my sister is calling me. I suppose she needs some help with her hand… yes, I'll tell her so. Goodbye."

The professor hung up the phone, grabbed his wallet – which was laying on the coffee table – and rose to his feet, ready to go. Maxwell told him that he was worried about C.C.. Niles had told the Englishman exactly how Miss Babcock had broken the window, and although she had apologised and promised to pay for the damage, Maxwell sensed there was something else going on with his business partner. Noel had made his best to calm him down – to assure him that she was fine and that her inexplicable bout of rage had been a result of a stressful week and that she was now taking a day or two to relax.

Noel could only hope he had been convincing enough…

"Let's go, then. Want me to drive?" the professor asked, glancing at her injured hand.

"No, I'll do it…" she didn't elaborate why, but it was almost implicit that she wanted to do it because in some weeks she would be confined to a hospital – granted, a luxurious and comfortable hospital, but a hospital nonetheless.

The ride to the clinic was fairly silent – Noel did most of the talking, and C.C. was happy to listen. She didn't feel communicative right then, and her mind was mostly focused on the many ideas she had to disappear without a trace. There was one in particular that was incredibly appealing, but she'd need help from Bort and her brother to carry it out. She knew that her emotional state hadn't been the best since Maxwell had started dating Nanny Fine – not that she cared about that now, though – and everyone around the mansion knew so… so what if she faked some kind of nervous crisis? Like a mental break down? She could simply say that she had to get inpatient psychiatric care and that would explain her absence! She could also leave Chester with the Sheffields and Angelica, her maid, could take care of her penthouse by coming once or twice a week to clean it up. If her treatment took longer than expected, then she'd simply send her resignation letter alleging she needed more time to recover after such a "traumatic breakdown".

It was simply genius!

God, she hadn't felt this brilliant in a long time. Not in terms of her health, obviously, but having an idea like that one set her feeling like something might actually go her way for once, even if it came from a crappy situation.

That's why she couldn't help but beam as the car made its way up the driveway, towards the entrance of the clinic. The place seemed even grander in person than it did in the information booklet, but C.C. barely noticed because she was too busy congratulating herself as she pulled the car into a parking space. Noel noticed her look, and chuckled.

"I'd ask if you were just enjoying the hospital already, if I didn't know that smile," he said. "You have an idea about something. What is it?"

C.C. shook her head, and switched off the engine, "I'll tell you later."

The siblings stepped out of the car, making their way towards the front doors of the hospital – the reception was just beyond, through the glass. Noel trailed a little behind his sister, who was determined to get in to see the oncologist and get a plan of action as soon as possible. She'd have to see this guy to know for sure if her plan would work – he'd have to be in on it, and to know if he'd be in on it, she had to meet him and work out if he was the kind of man that would go in for helping patients out in pulling ruses.

"Come on, Ceec, you can't leave me hanging like that!" Noel exclaimed, practically power walking to catch up with her.

Grinning, the producer stopped and turned to him, "Oh yes I can, dearest brother of mine, and I will. We need to get in and see this doctor you said about, and I don't want what I have in mind interfering with this appointment. At least, not right away, until I figure out what kind of deal I can expect from him. Then I'll let you know. Besides, you're gonna be an important part of the plan, so I can't leave you in the dark forever."

Noel smirked, shaking his head, "Always the secretive one, Chastity-Claire. I'm going to hold you to your word that you'll tell me soon."

"I never said soon," C.C. said pointedly. "I said when I've figured out what this doctor's deal is. It might change my plan entirely, who knows?"

Now it was Noel's turn to smirk. It was not just by chance that he had recommended her that doctor, and he was more than certain that his sister and Dr Wilson would get along just fine. He remembered meeting Wilson once before, when he had last visited his friend at the clinic. The oncologist was not only brilliant, but he also had an acerbic type of humour that would be really appreciated by C.C.. He also knew Wilson had a tendency to be a prankster and enjoyed witty wordplay, much like his sister did.

"Oh, alright…" Noel said, accepting defeat as the crossed the glass doors and entered the reception. "I'll wait until you decide to tell me."

After Noel had spoken with the receptionist about C.C. having a last minute appointment with Dr Wilson, the siblings were guided to Wilson's office, which was located in the second floor. The oncologist had been told his patient had arrived, so by the time Noel and C.C. reached the office he was already waiting for them at the door. The man was probably in his late forties, had pair of incredible sky-blue eyes and a charming smirk; if C.C. was being honest, there was something about him that vaguely reminded her of Niles, and for some inexplicable reason she liked him already.

She kind of hoped that he had a penchant for trouble and jokes, too – it would make convincing him to aid her in her ruse a little easier.

"Good afternoon Mr and Miss Babcock," the oncologist said, giving them way to enter the office. "Now, I won't ask how you are doing since you have just been diagnosed with a life-threatening condition – the answer is rather obvious, don't you think?"

C.C. arched an amused eyebrow and chanced a glance at her brother; Noel was smirking, too – he obviously knew this doctor had a peculiar and rather dry personality, and she couldn't help but be thankful for that. She wouldn't have been able to abide her oncologist being one of those doctors that treated their patients with kitten gloves or like they were a mere number.

"It's quite an idiotic question to ask me right now, I must agree," the producer said, stepping into the office and taking a seat before Wilson's desk – he was surprised to find that he already had a file with her name laying on top of it. Noel and the doctor soon took a seat, too, and silence floated around them from some seconds. But it wasn't a tense silence – actually, she felt rather comfortable around her new doctor.

"So, I'll go to the crux of the matter – you have cancer. Your file says you have Hodgkin's Lymphoma but we have yet to discover the stage, correct?"

C.C. nodded. She was liking this guy more and more with each second that went by – he was straightforward and didn't sugar-coat her condition. Perfect.

"Good. Well, we need to do some routine tests, including another lymph node biopsy and blood tests, so we can determine your staging. We can actually make those two tests tomorrow, and we'll get the results in just a few days. Then we'll do an x-ray of your chest and a PET-CT Scan," the doctor explained, writing down the procedures that he'd carry out on her file. "Let me tell you, from the information already in your file, it's almost certain that you have – at least – two lymph node groups affected, so we are talking about a stage 2 or above type of cancer. Bear in mind that this equals to a minimum of 6 months of chemotherapy."

C.C. couldn't help it; her shoulders slumped and she let out an audible breath which corresponded to both shock and disappointment. Six whole months? Or perhaps more?! She knew it would be some time, but she had no idea it would take that long! Could she really be there for so many weeks, having nothing to do, and just allowing life to go on outside the hospital without her? What would happen to her work? Would the company be alright? C.C. suddenly didn't know if she could do this...she needed to work, and she was going to be stuck here not being able to do it...

Wilson smiled, and pointed a finger at her expression, "Ah, there it is. The look of realisation when the patient knows they're gonna be out of action for a while."

"A while?!" C.C. repeated in disbelief. "Dr Wilson, for someone like myself, being out of work for anything over four months is practically retirement!"

"But this isn't retirement, Miss Babcock," Wilson leaned back in his chair, resting his arms on the desk. "This is sick leave, and even high and mighty Broadway producers need it sometimes. Yes, I know who you are. I'm not really a man of the theatre myself, but word gets around and names get in papers, and occupations get put on medical forms. And being out for six months or so is a whole lot better than being out for all of eternity, wouldn't you say?"

C.C. had nothing to say to that. All she could do was admit he had a point, but she got the feeling he'd take that with a delivery of the smuggest comment she'd ever heard in her life. But she had also already agreed that she would allow herself to be admitted to this place, and it was nice there. She wouldn't be working, but given her condition, that was probably for the best anyway.

And she was also getting the feeling that this was exactly the right man to help her pull off her plan.

"Speaking of word going around and my occupation…" C.C. began, lifting her head to meet the doctor's gaze. "I suppose you know that I'd like my condition to not be known, right?"

"I suspected as much," Wilson said, grabbing a little ball from one of his drawers and tossing it from hand to hand. "But judging by the look on your face I suspect you have something else in mind."

C.C. couldn't help but smile. He was also perceptive… this was definitely the perfect doctor for her.

"Yes, I do. You see, I wish to keep my condition a secret from the press, my family and my friends, too, so I have a plan to, shall we say, disappear without people asking uncomfortable questions."

She could tell she had gained his attention, for Wilson stopped playing with his ball and his eyes shot up to hers. There was a hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth, and she supposed that his silence was a wordless request for her to develop her idea. Her brother was interested, too – the fact that he was on the edge of his seat told her so.

"I will need to talk about this with my therapist, but I want to stage some type of mental crisis, which will require me to be sent away for a while. Of course that, if I want the plan to work, I need you to participate in the ruse," C.C. explained, not being able to contain the smug and self-satisfied smile that was spreading across her lips. Her plan was insane, she knew it, but it was the ridiculousness of it that made it so incredibly brilliant.

Wilson stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth hanging wide open. He carelessly dropped the ball he was holding and burst into a loud fit of laughter. This woman was absolutely insane, but he liked her boldness. He didn't exactly agree with her not telling anyone about her condition, but he wasn't going to give an opinion on a decision that wasn't his to make. Her plan was brilliant, he had to admit it, and seeing as he had nothing better to do and the days at the hospital were rather monotonous, he figured he could help her.

"That was your plan all along?!" Noel asked in disbelief while both doctor and patient laughed. "C.C., I know you don't want anyone to know about this, but staging a mental breakdown?! Don't you think it's a bit extreme?"

"Oh, please, it's perfect!" C.C. said between chuckles and while wiping away a few tears of mirth that were running down her cheeks. "No one will suspect a thing," she turned to her doctor, who had managed to calm down and was writing something down on her file. "So, are you gonna help me, doc?"

"You know, Miss Babcock, it's been a while since I had last been so thrilled to treat a patient! I'm not only going to help you, but I am also going to raise the stakes – why don't you come to the clinic in, say, three days? You could stage your mental breakdown, be admitted and you'll simply wait for the results of your tests here. After all, you were going to be admitted eventually, so why not speed things up?" Wilson extended his right hand at her. "Do we have a deal?"

She stared at his proffered hand. If there had been any extreme suggestion made in that room, it was asking if she'd be up and ready to leave her entire life behind in just three days. She'd need to get home, pack her bags, leave her dog at the mansion, call Dr Bort and arrange the whole thing...

Could she do it? Really and truly go for it? She'd been the one to suggest it, after all, and backing out just because she'd been given a limited timeframe felt more than a little cowardly. She'd been given deadlines before – her entire life revolved around getting things done quickly and efficiently, and she was no coward. This would prove that.

All she needed was to carry out the breakdown, and she needed to do that in front of someone she knew would try to do something about it. The butler was the perfect candidate. It might show him a thing or two, as well, and that was always a nice bonus.

C.C.'s triumphant grin returned, and she firmly grasped his hand in her own, shaking it firmly, "Indeed we do, Doctor."

"Then it appears we have an understanding," Wilson released her hand and made to stand up. "In three days time, you won't be C.C. Babcock, Broadway producer and socialite. You will be Miss Chastity-Claire Babcock, cancer patient and on the road to being treated. I know it doesn't have quite the same ring to it, but imagine how good it will feel to get back to the first description, huh?"

C.C. and Noel also rose from their chairs, exchanging glances. Her brother was looking at her as if he expected her to give an opinion through facial expressions right then and there. He found her expression somewhat unreadable, however.

"The sooner we get started, the better," C.C. nodded at Wilson, who grinned in return, edging around the side of his desk to walk across and open the office door for both Babcocks.

"Now that's what I like to hear!" he said cheerfully. "So go home, get yourself ready for your big performance, and I'll see you in a few days, okay?"

"I will, Dr Wilson. Thank you for taking part in this," the producer said with a weak smile and left the office, part of her wanting to be back home as soon as possible. She had a lot to do, after all, and there was no time to lose.

She walked down the corridor with her brother by her side. He had enveloped her shoulders in a kind of comforting hug; he could tell she was not happy about, as Dr Wilson had said, becoming Chastity-Claire, cancer patient on her road to recovery. But what choice did she have? If she refused treatment, then death would be the outcome, and she didn't want to throw her life away just because she was afraid of treatment. Yes, she was afraid, and although she hadn't said it aloud she wasn't going to try to deny it – at least not to herself.

Her life was about to change (probably for the worse), and everything and everyone she knew would become part of the past. But she had to be strong...

This was just a necessary evil in order to go back to being her usual, healthy and powerful cutthroat self.

At least, that's what she hoped.