Hello, Hello! Sorry it took me so long to update this. But I always take a break after finishing one story, to let it "fade away" which sounds corny,but is true. lol And then I was having serious problems with this chapter...I am aware that it's still crap,apologies for that. Also, I'm currently in Amsterdam for my mum's birthday and will move on to Belgium on Friday to meet negs in real life, which means I probably won't manage another update for a week or so. But R&R still!;)
Disclaimer: They aren't mine...you know the drill...
Chapter 8:
There was a gentle storm passing over Ryde the next morning. C.C. lay, tucked up in the safety and warmth of her bed and just listened to the rain splatter against the window, the howling of the wind and the crashing of the waves in the distance. She felt strangely light-hearted, as if just like the sounds of the storm, her tumultuous feelings were also kept behind a barrier. And for the time being she was just content to listen to the faint noise… Her eyes remained closed and her head lightly rested against the pillows, it was only the lingering trace of his cologne that finally sent her climbing out of bed. Smoothing out her nightgown, she walked past the empty glasses and scattered papers on the floor and to the bathroom. Slowly and with the last remnants of sleep fading away, it was becoming more difficult to block out the questions and doubts. The warm water of the shower was refreshing and calming simultaneously and helped her clear her head. They had been civil…so much she dared to admit, but nothing further. She refused to believe that it meant anything, that they'd merely been forced to work together and that the fact remained that he had been spending time with her out of pity. That she couldn't forget. It was as if that little shred of doubt had wormed its way into her heart and was now making her question everything. Every smile, every laugh, every surprisingly soft comment had to be scrutinized. After all, she had believed him before, had felt…something, only to learn the hurtful truth. How could she trust him? She sighed and washed the traces of shampoo away as easily as the memories.
Niles, too, awoke with the strange feeling that something had changed. He couldn't put his finger on it, however, until he was fully awake. Him and C.C., last night, writing. That was what that feeling of change was all about, yet the more he thought about it the less groundbreaking it felt. They had been given no choice but to collaborate, that was the only reason why Babcock had been civil. He was being a warmhearted fool again and letting his old feelings for C.C. cloud his judgment. He shouldn't hope, after all, she had crushed him once before. She would never find an interest in him, a Babcock and a servant: utterly ridiculous. He sighed and slowly moved out of bed. And yet it seemed that when she was with him like that, that none of this seemed to matter; that it was just them, Niles and C.C. together and nothing else that mattered. But her words still stung, were firmly lodged in his memory. " I left because I had enough of that pitiful display of love of your servant parents. Do you know how cold it is at night in that little cottage of yours? Did you see the cracked tiles in the bathroom and the chipped paint everywhere else? Your house smells of poverty, Niles, and I couldn't bear the stench of it for another second!" He knew how C.C. Babcock's defense mechanisms worked, knew that she tended to lash out in order to protect herself, lest anyone get close enough to see how vulnerable she was behind it all. But this? This wasn't something she had said to defend herself, this was how she felt, the truth she had learned from childhood onwards. A truth she had known would hurt him and that she still hadn't been afraid to use. And no, as long as she thought like that, he wasn't willing to let her even remotely close.
When they all found each other at breakfast a few hours later, Maxwell was the only one who looked excited. He was practically bobbing up and down on his chair, looking from Niles to C.C., clearly straining to ask if they had fulfilled their tasks.
"Yes, Maxwell, I compiled the list of songs." C.C. drawled, sounding bored "But I'm not sure if Butler Boy over here did his job."
They had agreed on this the night before.
"You're just afraid that your precious career might be damaged if I don't deliver the goods. But Babs, I've never been known to disappoint."
She looked up then to catch his eye and smiled a little. It felt right to talk like this again, it was like a gentle reminder of the previous night and yet she did keep wondering if his words were mainly teasing or if there was some ounce of truth in them. His eyes, however, didn't give anything away and still she kept staring at him, much like she'd done a few hours ago.
"So?" Niles asked, there was a little smug smile on his face that bothered her.
She lifted a hand to silence him and used the other to push her reading glasses up to sit on the crown of her head. Tiredly she rubbed her eyes, her body exhausted from walking in the storm and her heart recovering from the hurt listening to certain songs had evoked. The expression in his eyes changed to an almost worried one and she swallowed, wanted to believe that he cared. He had just opened his mouth to say something when she interrupted him.
"Your handwriting is so tiny it takes me hours to get through one page."
"Maybe you just need stronger glasses." Niles shot back but she only rolled her eyes.
"Just busy yourself for a while, preferably without making a sound."
"Sorry, Babs, I'm not like your last lover." he grinned and she groaned in frustration.
Unable to say anything to this she poured herself and him another glass of whiskey and pushed the drink into his hand. Taking a sip of her own she slid her glasses back into place and continued scanning his script. The first thing that struck her as odd, was that the man character was a woman, she had firmly expected him to write about himself. The characters seemed strangely familiar, yet not entirely so. Something was off or different about them. But Niles remained silent and made it possible for her to do her job as swiftly as she would've done any other one. When she finished, she put the papers aside and emptied her glass in one big gulp. Niles was still silent, but his eyes were boring into hers.
"It's good," she nodded, which was an understatement really, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing how impressed she truly was.
"You were doubting," he commented with a knowing grin.
"Well, sure, it's not often that someone goes from butler to world-class writer."
"I wasn't aware that the two are mutually exclusive." he replied, but she merely shrugged. "Being rich doesn't make you a good Broadway producer either."
"Watch it, handywipe, or your work will be gone in a second." she said threateningly and picked up the papers again.
"Despite the way you feel towards me, Babcock, I'm not an idiot," he said with a grin "now hand me those papers like a good girl and your precious career while remain intact."
Her glare was strong and deadly, but the former butler didn't even flinch.
"Alright," she deflated with a sigh and passed the script back to him.
"Now let's take a look at your song list."
She scrambled to her feet and grabbed it from the nightstand.
"There," and while he read through it, she emptied another glass of whiskey.
"You have good taste in music," he said quietly and the shadow of a smile washed over her face.
"Thank you," she nodded "so what do you think?"
"It's good," he admitted "but it doesn't fit properly yet…let's see."
Pouring herself another drink, she watched with fascination how he took the cap off the pen and chewed at the tip. Suddenly realizing what she was doing, she turned her head away. She'd never hear the end of it if Niles caught her watching.
The rest of the day passed fairly peacefully, as someone both of them had called a truce and if they did talk to each other, they conversed in the same old way of bickering and teasing everyone else was used to.
"Ah Miss Babcock, Mr. Brightmore," Kraentzl greeted them when they entered his hut, completely ignoring Maxwell for the time being "did you fulfill the task like I asked you to?"
They both nodded and muttered reluctant words under their breath.
"And I made sure they didn't collaborate." Maxwell said, puffing his chest out pompously.
"Of course," Kraentzl's eyes briefly flickered to him, before they rested on Niles and C.C. once more "well, let me see, let me see."
At first everybody was holding their breath as they watched the artist read what they had come up with, but slowly the minutes stretched on to hours and the tension left the room. The sun was setting by the time Kraentzl put the scripts down on his table.
"Well, that was certainly interesting." he mumbled, though he didn't look like a man who had just enjoyed a new play, there was a deeper curiosity to him.
"So that means?" Maxwell carefully ventured to say.
"That means you have passed the test, this is very worth investing my time in. Book the next flight to New York, I'll be delighted to join you!"
