Chapter 3

CC's morning was off to a wretched start. She had awoken groggy and exhausted, 30 minutes after her alarm should have sounded, to Chester whimpering for his breakfast. Shit, she was going to be late. Again. She desperately needed coffee, but was she allowed caffeine? No, she was not. She reached for the thermometer she'd begun keeping on her nightstand, and found that her temperature had surged from the previous day's reading. Drawing in a quick breath, she threw back the covers and picked up her phone.

"Yes, it's significantly higher. Yes. No, I can't come in right now; I'm late for work. Oh. I understand. All right, I'll be there." CC dropped the phone on her duvet and walked into the kitchen, quickly measuring out Chester's food and giving the dog a pat as he happily started to eat. Then she stripped off her silk pajamas, hurrying through her bedroom to the master bath.

As the steam from the shower filled the air, CC thought she heard a knock at her door. But who would be here at this hour? Certainly not… well. No one would be here. A far-off expression in her eyes, CC stepped into the bathtub and sighed as the hot water beat down on her back. Letting her thoughts drift to the one person she might have expected on her doorstep a couple months ago, she ran her hands over her body, then stopped. No time to think about him now.


Shutting off the faucet, CC squeezed the excess water from her hair and pulled her thick white towel around her body. With the water no longer running, she couldn't deny that the suspected knock on the door had turned into pounding. Chester was making a terrible racket, too, barking in unison with the beating on the door. CC called out, "Chester, be quiet," and surprisingly, the little dog came running into the room, silent.

She moved into her bedroom, searching for her robe. It wasn't immediately visible, and the person at the door would have her neighbors calling the police if she didn't put a stop to the noise. She ran barefoot and towel-clad to her door and peeked through the peephole. She drew in a breath when she recognized her visitor, and said, in a tone that was brusque even for her, "What the hell are you doing here?"

Niles, finally hearing her voice, stopped his fist mid-air and instead grasped the doorframe, relaxing into it. "Thank god," he muttered under his breath. More loudly, he demanded, "Open the door, Miss Babcock, please."

Something in his voice made her turn the deadbolt and remove the security lock.

"What is this, Niles?" She sounded more tired than angry, and if Niles had only heard her, he would've been more concerned than ever. He'd expected to catch hell from her, interrupting her morning when she was clearly—he glanced down at his watch—even later for work than usual. But since her question was accompanied by the view of more of Miss Babcock's flesh than he'd ever had the privilege of seeing before, he did well to remain standing.

"What are you—" he choked out. "Where are your clothes?"

CC rolled her eyes. "I was in the shower. You were out here trying to beat my damned door down, remember? What. Do. You. Want?"

"I want…" You, his brain supplied. Shaking his head, he continued, "I want to speak with you."

"Well, here I am. Speak." CC turned her back to him, walking across her living room towards the kitchen. Chester ran up to Niles, yipping at him, and he picked the little dog up, giving him a friendly rub between the ears.

Now that he was here, all the ways he'd considered broaching the topic of CC's health seemed impossibly personal, when their relationship, if he dared to call it that, was already so tenuous. Setting the dog down on CC's black leather sofa, he considered what he should say.

"Niles. Toilet duck. I'm dying, here. What is it that you want to speak to me about? Did Maxwell send you over?" CC's exasperation was growing, and she had someplace she needed to be. She reached for her coffee machine and filled the canister with water, starting a pot of decaf.

Niles did not appreciate her choice of words. "Well, Miss Babcock, here it is. Are you dying?" He cringed as soon as he said it. Real smooth. Way to lead into a difficult topic.

She glanced up at him in disbelief. "What?" She seemed genuinely confused, and Niles took heart in that. That was not the reaction of a woman trying to hide a terminal illness.

"Miss Babcock… CC. I… You've seemed so tired lately. I came to… to check on you." Niles looked at the floor, unable to make eye contact with her. His concern was so out of character even he almost couldn't believe it. He kept quiet about what he'd discovered, both at MCB and in her briefcase. How could he reveal those truths without incriminating himself?

CC? She narrowed her eyes, immediately wondering what fall he might be setting her up for. But he sounded… sincere? And somewhat… concerned? Wondering just what might be going on, CC concentrated more on analyzing Niles's demeanor than she did on the towel that was clinging to her damp body. She brushed against the counter, and the towel caught on the edge of it, quickly coming untucked and slipping down around her waist. She fumbled to grab it, but not before Niles got an eyeful.

He grabbed on to the counter to steady himself, swallowing painfully. As a blush colored CC's cheeks, Niles closed his eyes, hoping his reaction to the dropped towel wasn't as obvious as hers.

"Have a seat, Niles," CC said, and without another word, she stalked into her bedroom and closed the door.

Niles moved over to the sofa, sinking gratefully into it and inattentively stroking Chester's soft fur. Certainly CC looked to be in the full bloom of health. He felt somewhat reassured, even if she hadn't responded directly to his inelegant questions.