Hi, everybody! Well, I finally got this chapter done - the day after I graduated, and everything! I'm going to have quite a bit of time now until I find a job (the one I told you guys about before didn't pan out), so hopefully I'll be a bit quicker with updates. I hope you all enjoy this!

Disclaimer: I don't own The Nanny, any of its characters, settings, etc.

The weeks, slowly but surely, began to pass. Getting used to all the new information was probably taking a toll on the butler, C.C. thought. She supposed she had to allow time for him to process it. Her presence alone had to come with a number of questions he wasn't asking.

Not that she'd probably know how to answer all of them if he did.

It was much easier to try and pick back up where they'd left off while he thought about whatever he had to, which they'd sort of been managing (on and off) so far. But the former producer couldn't help feeling frustrated at the same time – it might've been a job to look after Niles, but she missed her old one. He still got to have his day-to-day, and she was stuck watching life play out in real time with no hope of being able to join in.

It didn't help that most of the butler's chores (and routines which didn't involve their zingers) were boring as hell, either. She'd told him more than once within the first week of their new arrangement, too. But when they were alone, he'd just kept on reminding her (sometimes with something that looked – briefly – like glee) that she'd gotten herself into this position in the first place.

C.C. had shut up about it after that. She might've found it mind-numbingly dull, especially when he couldn't always reply to her attempts at banter, but it was better than nothing. Well, it was better than something which was probably worse than nothing.

And it sometimes meant getting out and seeing the city, which was something else she'd feared never being able to do again.

It was a nice enough afternoon for not being stuck in the mansion, but she and Niles had been bouncing insults off one another all day and tensions were starting to run high. The butler was marching along, trying to finish the last chore on his schedule, and occasionally tossing back an insult whenever he thought of one.

Getting everything done was taking so long, C.C. thought she'd run out of things to joke about before he managed it!

But there was one unusual detail she hadn't so far thought to ask – or, well, make up a zinger – about; the fact that he kept an old (obviously bought second-hand) phone clamped to his ear whenever they went outside. They'd had to go out three times in about the last five days, and he'd taken it like that every single time!

"Why do you even bother with that thing, anyway?" she asked, folding her arms as she floated alongside him, keeping pace even though he was hurrying. She missed the solid feeling of the sidewalk beneath her feet, but there was something to be said for getting around by essentially flying, too. "If it's an attempt at looking like some kind of professional, I'm afraid that ship has long sailed, Butler Boy."

She thought she heard Niles let out a low grumble before he replied.

"I'm holding up the phone because if I talk to you like this without it, people will think I'm insane," he retorted. "I know that was a regular occurrence for you, but most people tend to try and avoid it."

C.C. started to scowl, and would've tossed something back about people avoiding him as well, but he'd stopped all of a sudden and she had to come to a halt, too. If she'd had a physical presence it would have been clumsy, but in her current form it was as smooth as silk.

Niles, meanwhile, was busy peering at the piece of paper where he'd put all his tasks for the day. The little scrap taken from an old notebook was becoming ever more creased as the hours wore on. C.C. came forward a little and hovered over his shoulder, just in his line of sight.

"Having trouble reading your list?" she cocked her head to one side, feigning curiosity. "Now, is it your age, or just the sloppiness of the writing that's tripping you up?"

Frowning in disapproval, Niles snapped his eyes back to the paper, "You know perfectly well I wrote this list at five o'clock this morning. My mind wasn't fully awake."

The former producer raised her eyebrows, "Is it ever? Need I remind you that I can see you at all hours of the day now-"

"And isn't that a blessing for us both?" the butler muttered sarcastically.

C.C. ignored it, and continued what she had to say.

"And just as I suspected before, you do the same amount of work during the day as you do at the beginning and at the end of it!" she finished with a satisfied air.

It was apparently Niles' turn to ignore her after that, as he tried again to make out the very last instruction that would allow him to finish up for the day, so that they could go back to the mansion.

After a few moments of him clearly coming up with nothing, C.C. tutted and rolled her eyes.

"Oh, for Pete's sakes! Here, lemme take a look," she leaned in and examined the paper herself. "Pick up…dry cleaning."

Niles blinked, "How did you get "dry cleaning" from that?"

C.C. smirked at him as she pulled back, away from the list.

"It's one of my many new powers, Hazel," she told him, unable and not really wanting to help the smugness permeating her tone. "I'm invisible, I'm super strong, and I can read any language on Earth, including the previously indecipherable Butler's Chicken Scratch."

She flicked her finger through the paper as she said that, knowing that her words had annoyed him at least a little more.

But he was trying his damned hardest not to show it.

He stuffed his list back into his pocket and began to move, "Well, you'll have to demonstrate your wonderful new talent of being able to read another time. We have to get moving – the cleaners' closes in half an hour."

Knowing she'd won at least that round – and maybe the whole day, if her calculations and scorekeeping were correct – she made to follow him with a grin.

"Alright."

They kept on walking (well, one of them was walking), still tossing jibes as they moved. But eventually it got to the point where C.C. thought Niles might've made a mistake.

She was certain he was supposed to have turned a corner at least a block ago, but he hadn't! If he kept going he'd never make it to the dry cleaners' before they closed, and then she'd never hear the end of how the place closed far too early anyway, and that the prices were practically legalised theft, and how he could do a better job of getting stains out anyway, he just didn't have the time or equipment!

She'd heard it all before, and if this was it for the foreseeable future, she wanted his complaints to at least be interesting.

"Didn't you miss the turn?" she piped up, looking around for the street sign to tell them how far out of the way they'd gone.

Niles looked up at her from where he'd fixed his eyes on the sidewalk, slowing down but not stopping.

"Hm? What?"

C.C. pointed back the way they'd come, "The turn, for the corner. The dry cleaners' is back down there."

The butler shook his head, and kept on walking, "No, it isn't."

The former producer floated along beside him, raising her voice to make him listen, "Yeah, it is – the nearest to the house, the one I know you always use because it's not far to walk – is on 76th!"

"We're not at 76th yet!" Niles barked, speeding up just a little.

Like he could leave her behind! Even if there wasn't a crossing ahead that he'd have to slow down for, she'd always catch up.

She followed him, gesturing around at all the buildings they passed, "Yes, we are! Look around, you've haunted this neighbourhood long enough! Or are you now so old that you can't recognise local areas, along with your own handwriting?"

They were still moving, coming up to the edge of the sidewalk.

"I can recognise anywhere I have to, thank you," Niles said curtly, looking directly at C.C. as he took a step back into the road. "So I know for sure that the dry cleaners' is still down this wa-"

"Niles watch out!"

C.C. had seen the speeding car just in time. To mortals, at a moment like that the world might've slowed down. But if it did anything for C.C., it sped up.

She reacted almost out of a newfound instinct, throwing her arms around the butler and pulling him back onto the sidewalk. The vehicle zoomed past, honking the horn angrily all the way, and it was over.

But even in the aftermath, she didn't let go of Niles.

His face was so close to hers, she could see the awe in his eyes at what had just happened. She could feel her arms around his shoulders and middle, his heavy breathing lifting and pressing his chest against hers as he tried to catch his breath back, and…and…

His arms were…almost encircling her, too? Or, they looked like they were out like they wanted to – he couldn't quite touch her where-

"Hey, you okay there, pal?"

The new voice – the voice of a concerned man who'd clearly witnessed the near-accident – brought them both back into the present.

C.C. snapped out of the reverie, burying whatever her mind was trying to bring up with it, and pulled away from holding the butler.

But even after that Niles still seemed distracted, and C.C. had to quietly prompt him so that he'd remember to answer the man.

"Oh…um, yes. Yes, I'm fine. Thank you," the butler nodded, and ran a hand through his hair. "I um, just...got kind of a shock, that was all…"

The stranger didn't seem to think much of it after that, and soon disappeared back into the crowds. It left C.C. watching Niles as he searched around for where he'd dropped the phone, which had still been in his hand when C.C. had pulled him out of the road.

He eventually found it, but it looked as though the car which had failed to hit him had run over the device and crushed it.

Well, there went all methods of two-way outdoor communication for the time being. But perhaps it was for the best, for the time being – C.C. wasn't sure she wanted to talk about what had happened (ever), but she did know that she could keep her mouth shut about it. And now Niles had to keep quiet as well, meaning he couldn't try and bring it up, either.

Not that she expected him to. It can't have meant anything. It'd been a shock for them both, that was all – he'd almost died, she'd saved him, and it was the first time in far too long that she'd been able to hold another person. If it happened again, it wouldn't feel the same – it was a job. She had to treat it like one, and get back to a more comfortable routine.

She lightly brushed her hand through his arm, checking that the 'necessary touching' was over and done with under the pretence of patting his sleeve to get him moving, and started to head back towards the mansion.

"Come on, Hazel; let's go."

There wasn't any talking at all on the way back, and Niles wasn't quite sure how to feel.

For starters, he was having to contend with the fact that he'd just almost been knocked down by a car. That alone would have been enough for most people.

But he had the added measure of thinking about how it was Miss Babcock that had saved him – saved him! – from being killed.

Of course, he also had to think about the fact that it was her job to do that now. She'd been sent to watch over him, and he had to imagine that this sort of thing came with the territory.

But she had held him for an awfully long time afterwards. A lot longer than was probably reasonable for pulling somebody out of the road. He'd been able to feel her arms around him, too, and her chest pressed against his…

He'd tried to hold her, as well. He could admit that much to himself, even if the possibility of anything else was…well, quite frankly, impossible. She wasn't there in the same capacity as other people anymore (even if she had been, his chances would still have been non-existent), and his hands hadn't found anything where he'd tried to put them.

He was quite grateful that she hadn't brought it up, really. Not that he expected that to last long. She was probably waiting for an opportunity when they could both talk freely, and with the untimely destruction of his phone, the delay in communications was lengthened.

He was thinking about how he could explain away his behaviour for the moment they were alone, as he opened the door into the kitchen.

Mr and Mrs Sheffield were nursing mugs of tea at the table as he came in, Miss Babcock not far behind. She might have actually come through the door as it closed, but she didn't say a word about it if so. It can't have bothered her, at any rate, because she couldn't touch anything.

Well, most of the time, anyway.

Fran was the first to look up from her tea, and her face screwed up in some confusion.

"Niles, where's the dry cleaning? I thought ya said ya'd pick it up today?"

Of course she was wondering about that – she'd been waiting for one of her favourite dresses, which had needed a delicate cleaning after an unfortunate incident involving a tray of brownie batter, which Sylvia had mistaken for a full tray of brownies without realising her daughter was behind her (and would catch her in the act of helping herself to Niles' half-finished baking).

The butler shook his head, shuffling further into the room. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Miss Babcock take a floating position over the counter, watching the conversation take place. She looked as though she was curious about what he'd have to say, even if they both knew he wasn't going to say a word about exactly how he was saved.

He didn't like the thought of being confined to a clinic or a hospital room, and if she thought his regular day was boring, then she'd be climbing the walls if she had to go with him to something like that.

"I never ended up getting it…" he explained to Fran, trying to head straight through into the dining room. "It was the last thing on my list and I was…well, I was almost hit by a car on my way there."

The former nanny immediately leapt from her seat, her husband rising slower but nonetheless astounded.

Fran prevented Niles from moving any further by putting her hands on his arms, ready to grab and hold fast if he bolted, "Oh my God! A car?!"

The butler nodded, "Yes, that…is what I said."

"But…well, are you alright?! Did it get you at all?" Maxwell joined in, apparently looking at him all over to spot any signs of injury.

At that point, Niles expected Miss Babcock to make some kind of remark about how he had been saved and that it was all thanks to her. Even if she couldn't tell them, she could make it known to him how grateful he should be. But she didn't – she just kept watching, now looking vaguely concerned.

Was…was she worried that maybe the car had maybe clipped him, and he just wasn't saying anything?

No, it couldn't be that. She just had to be curious as to how the Sheffields were reacting.

And Fran truly was having a reaction, directing him straight into the nearest seat.

"I'm gonna check. Sit down right there and stay still – if I find anythin' wrong whatsoever, we are goin' straight ta the nearest hospital."

Niles tried to protest, "Mrs Sheffield, please; I-"

"No buts, Niles!" was Fran's immediate response, pointing a warning finger at him with an angry look on her face. She didn't speak again until she'd already started her examination, and that time her voice was much quieter. "…No one in this house is allowed ta take chances anymore."

So that was it. She'd heard he'd nearly had an accident involving a car, and even if he insisted that he was fine, it wasn't enough. Fran clearly wasn't willing to let it pass, even if the risk was minimum.

Not after what happened to Miss Babcock, who was now watching with a deep frown and a look in her eyes like she might start to cry. When she saw him watching, she looked away, towards the counter surface.

It took a while for Fran to finish making sure he was alright, and once she'd roped Maxwell in to ask him some questions to make sure he hadn't (somehow) hit his head, it took even longer. Niles had again tried to insist that he was alright and didn't need any (stupid) questions, but the Sheffields had insisted even harder back at him.

He'd managed to catch Miss Babcock's eye at the beginning of that part, and she'd started to cheer up when they'd told him their plan and found that he was less than thrilled by the idea. It became a distraction, trying hard not to give the wrong answers that she kept shouting out whenever Maxwell asked him a question.

He nearly let himself down by laughing at "What can be found in the Paramount Building at 222 West 51st Street?" because Miss Babcock shouted out "Andrew Lloyd Webber's left ass cheek", but Fran distracted Maxwell from it right away by claiming that that question was too complicated. The British producer argued back that it wasn't, and the married couple then got into a 'discussion' about what was appropriate to ask people who might've had a head injury and what wasn't.

The ridiculousness of it all gave Niles a few spare minutes to make mocking reaction faces at Miss Babcock, who could laugh as loud as she wanted, and return them in kind, as well as open insults, to see him try to keep a straight face.

Before he even knew it, all of the tension from the course of the day had melted away. He hadn't been angry at all after Miss Babcock had saved him; it had become a different kind of tension once she had. But the longer they spent quietly having fun at their friends' expense, the more he forgot about it.

And by the end, he was actually starting to feel rather relaxed. Even in the short time she'd been…well, not elsewhere, but out of sight and hearing, he'd missed these opportunities.

The rare opportunities, when they could team up and use their wits against other people, together.

But perhaps those moments didn't have to be so rare anymore, to a certain extent…

Of course, the fun did have to come to an end for the time being, when Maxwell finally conceded defeat and left for the office so Fran could get back to her inspection for bumps, bruises, and broken bones. But, just as Niles had expected, she didn't find a single thing wrong with him.

"Nope…not a single scratch," the brunette patted his shoulder comfortingly, before letting out a quietly relieved sigh and heading off to apparently make another cup of tea. "Someone's watchin' out fer you, mister."

Her words automatically made him look at Miss Babcock, and he couldn't help but smiling at least a little.

"I think you may be right."

He knew Fran was right, and the returned smile that only he could see mirrored his own.