Apologies for the delay but I've been working my butt off lately, so in the evenings I was too tired to write. (a rare occurrence, indeed) So it's taken me a while to finish this chapter, but it's finally here now. ;) I shall try and have the next update ready for you by Friday and I have next week off, which should (hopefully) give me time to finish a certain request I got over a month ago. ;) Please review and let me know what you think.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me...but I love them...

Chapter 10:

After the first dip into his past Niles went and reported back to Dr. Bort, even though, if he was honest, that was the last thing he really wanted to do. Sharing his memories with C.C. was something he was quite willing to do, not simply because it might aid in her recovery, but also because it made him feel closer to her again. Disclosing everything to Dr. Bort, however, well... it felt like betrayal on some level and it meant letting go of the soft, emotional side of their encounters and replacing it with cold, rational analysis. Nonetheless, Niles made his way down to the cafeteria, expecting to share every little detail with the therapist.

"Mr. Brightmore," Bort greeted with a curt nod "judging from the lateness of the hour, I suppose I am right to guess that the meeting went well?"

His eyebrows flew up almost on their own accord upon hearing the word "meeting".

"She isn't a client, Dr. Bort." he said quietly, but it was the insistence in his tone that made her look up.

And in his eyes she found herself confronted once more with the deep affection he had for C.C. Babcock. She was half-tempted to contradict, to argue that, in fact, she was only a client to her, but somehow that particular lie wouldn't make it past her lips.

"Your little chat went well though?"

He chuckled, despite himself, for the first time warming to the therapist, who seemed to care more than she let on.

"I'm not the expert." he said modestly "but Miss Babcock seemed to be alright with me talking about my childhood, if that's what you're asking?"

She nodded in agreement. "So what were you talking about? Did anything out of the ordinary happen?"

"Well, she didn't react too well when I mentioned that I'm a butler," Niles stated and, once again, Dr. Bort nodded.

"Yes, I know. There was an event in her childhood that causes her to link servants with the feeling of utter humiliation."

"Don't you think you could've mentioned this to me before?" Niles sighed, rubbing his temples "I mean, I am a butler, so the topic was bound to come up."

"Trust me, I understand your annoyance, Mr. Brightmore. But look on the bright side, Miss Babcock seems to trust you enough to overlook that particular fact."

He couldn't help but smile at this piece of information and Bort silently noted that the man was almost adorable in his need for acceptance.

"She wanted to hear about my father too, which I find surprising, considering she doesn't have the best relationship with her own father."

"What makes you say that?" the therapist asked, eyeing him closely.

"Well, I've met Mr. Babcock only a couple of times...but whenever he was around C.C. was...well, quite frankly, vulnerable. It is obvious that she cares a lot about his opinion, yet at the same time seems to be angry at him for something...I'm sure you'll now tell me that you know what caused it, am I right?" He finished, but the amusement sparkling in his eyes was proof that the last jab hadn't been a malevolent one.

"As a matter of fact I do, Mr. Brightmore, I am her therapist, after all." Bort smiled.

He paused for a moment, curious to see if she would tell him the reason, but when she made no attempt to speak again, he sighed.

"So you can see why it surprised me that she'd want me to talk about my father."

"Quite," Bort nodded and then added pensively "though it's only natural...given the circumstances."

Niles closed his eyes and lightly massaged his shoulders, though he wasn't sure if the tiredness that had suddenly overcome him was a physical or an emotional one.

"So Miss Babcock was not showing any signs of distress?"

"Sadness, yes. Distress...not that I'm aware of." he offered sincerely.

"So you'll be able to return tomorrow to continue?"

"Yes," he agreed, rising to his feet "C.C. will be happy to see me."

"What makes you say that?"

"She asked me to return," Niles replied and the pride of his tone mingled with the melancholy in his eyes.

"Goodnight," Mr. Brightmore, she said softly, turning away before he could see how strongly she was affected by his unconditional and humble love, that she yet had to find.

For the first time in quite a while Niles slept well that night. The concern he felt towards C.C. was still there, but it wasn't as overwhelming anymore, as it had been before. Overall, it felt like a step in the right direction and he was certain now that Bort thought the same. That night he dreamed about C.C. and even though he couldn't remember particular events or locations he would've sworn on his life that she was there with him. He had sensed her and upon awaking it was as if she was still around, as if traces of the old C.C. still lingered in the air.

The Sheffields noted with growing interested the bettering of the butler's mood. But it would still be a while before they would come to respect and fully understand the gravity of the situation and the strength that was required of him. For now, however, they contented themselves enjoying the smell of fresh food in the house as well as one joke or the other, that finally escaped the butler's mouth again. It was almost like old times again, or at least for them, because they never had relied on C.C. for a witty exchange. Niles, however, had and that was why his excitement grew considerably when it was time to return to the hospital again. Niles didn't try to hide his butler attire this time, for C.C. was now in the picture and not having to change clothes saved him a lot of time.

She was reading when he entered the room, but he was happy to find that she had chosen one of the books he had brought her on the previous day. Her eyes flickered up briefly to rest on his face and a shadow of a smile caressed her features, before she returned to the world of the book once more. None of this was discouraging to him, on the contrary, it only proved how comfortable she now was with him. He took off his coat and draped it over his chair, stretching his back before sitting down.

"You're looking tired today," she remarked, without looking at him, to which he merely smiled.

"Actually, I've slept very well."

"I didn't question that," her tone was snide "I just said you looked tired."

"I've been cooking for the family today and went grocery shopping." he offered as an explanation.

Now she closed the book and placed it down next to her and then she looked at him quite questioningly. "Isn't that your job?"

He chuckled softly at the question and at her facial expression.

"You're right, it is my job. I guess I'm just getting old."

She nodded, as if agreeing with him completely.

"Did you sleep well tonight, C.C.?"

"I guess I did," she shrugged "but I was in your story. I dreamed about the Sheffield mansion and about a girl with blonde hair...and that boy, Max. They were older though...and I watched them kiss." She grimaced "I didn't like it."

"You've been reading a lot lately and maybe together with my story that culminated in that dream."

She nodded. "You're probably right."

"Would you still like me to stay here?" he probed.

"Yes, it's boring otherwise. Do you always have to get the groceries and cook the meals?" she inquired.

"Yes," he agreed.

"That's strange...our butler didn't do that, we had cooks for that and boys who ran the errands for mommy and daddy."

"Well, when I was a boy it was different too. The Sheffield estate was large and they, too, had maids and cooks and butlers. It wasn't my father's job either to cook...but I've always helped in the kitchen, just because I loved cooking... And now, well, the house is much smaller and the wealth isn't that big, so I clean, I shop, I cook, but I don't mind it most of the time."

"Max...the boy you met...did you ever get to play with him again?"

"Yes, I did. The very next day, as a matter of fact. My lessons were over by 11 a.m. and so father took me back to the mansion with him, as I had requested. Once again I helped in the kitchen, I prepared pastry dough and made cookies and chopped vegetables and such, pretty easy things considering my age."

"I can't do any of that," C.C. remarked quietly.

"You haven't cooked anything at all?"

She looked up at him and opened her mouth and there was a sense of pride in the way she held herself, but then suddenly, she seemed to crumble down again and shook her head.

"No," the sadness was unmistakeable in her tone now, but then it was replaced by the all too familiar haughtiness "we have servants to do that, after all. It's not my job."

"Well, I suppose. But for me it was fun, I really did enjoy myself. And, as I said, after the work was done I went snooping around the house until I found Maxwell again."

"I can't believe they let you play with him," C.C. commented shaking her head "I was told to only talk to people of my status. Domestics simply don't have the intelligence to-"

"C.C.," he interrupted, quietly but firmly "that's not true. I understand where you're coming from, but that's not true. Sure, some of us weren't lucky enough to enjoy the finest education, but we are bright people..."

"Have you stopped lecturing me now?" she snapped, annoyed.

"Yes," he frowned "and I'm sorry. But I know the view of both classes; I've lived long enough in both..."

"So they approved of you? All servants and Maxwell's family?"

"Not everyone, of course." he shook his head with a soft smile "but as you know, my father had warned me."

"What happened then?" she asked, clearly curious again.

"Well, in terms of the upper classes not approving... the very obvious first problem were Maxwell's parents. His mother didn't like the idea at all and my father probably would have got in a lot of trouble, had Mr. Sheffield senior not spoken up for me. Max's mother caught us playing and asked perplexed who I was. So I told her my name and he added further information. She then shook her head and began shrieking at Maxwell until his father arrived. "How old are you, young man?" he asked and I felt myself shrinking under his stern gaze. I gave him my age and he contemplated the information for a while. "What do you do all day long?" he then asked. "Well, I am schooled at home, I help my mother around the house and... for the past two days I've also been helping out in the kitchens" I found myself spilling it all, with no respect to the trouble my dad might get. "What are your skills then?" he probed. "Sk-skills, Sir?" I repeated nervously. "You just told me you were helping in the kitchens," he waved his hands impatiently. "Yes, Sir. Well, I know how to prepare food... I'm reasonably good at cleaning, but I don't really enjoy it." I explained, smiling sheepishly. He gave me a satisfied smile and turned to face his wife again. "I think he will be a good influence for Maxwell." He said firmly and with that the decision was made. Even back then I found it weird that his wife didn't argue, she had seemed so angry and upset before to see me playing with her son. Maybe I found it weird because my own mother never backed down when she had a particular opinion. As a matter of fact, she'd stick to it until my father had found valid reasons that were strong enough to convince her otherwise. But be that as it may, thanks to his firmness I could stay and play with Maxwell, though I also always felt uncomfortable when Mrs. Sheffield was in the room or just watching us."

"So the other servants were just fine with that?" C.C. challenged and he sighed.

He wished he could convince her that her view of the meaningless domestics was wrong, but the harder he pressed his point, the more stubborn she would become.

"No, you're right, of course. Not all of them welcomed me with open arms. Several mocked the preferential treatment I'd been receiving. But I was save as long as my father was around. But I remember a specific moment that disappointed me more than anything else. Over the years, money in our house was becoming scarce, so my mother graciously decided to work as well. Mr. Sheffield senior, happy with the work my father had done, hired my mother instantly."

"But wait," C.C. interrupted "weren't you saying yesterday that your mother was reasonably wealthy?"

"Yes," Niles nodded with a smile "she herself had come from an upper class upbringing but had declined her inheritance."

"Why would she do something like that?" she shook her head in displeasure "And now she's poor and..."

"She loved my father," Niles said softly "and she feared that the money would only cause a rift between them."

"So she worked?" C.C. asked.

"Yes, she became a maid at the Sheffield estate. My father felt guilty, as if it was his fault that she couldn't stay at home anymore. But she merely let out her carefree laugh and told him that she'd been getting bored in anyway."

He stopped and wiped a single tear from the corner of his eye.

"She's dead, isn't she?" C.C. whispered.

"Yes, quite a number of years now. But that's not what I wanted to talk about. My biggest disappointment was when I overheard the other maids talking, chuckling about my mother behind her back, as if her misfortune was enough to make them happy. Schadenfreue, the Germans call it. Mother took no notice, she heard the gossip but she was proud and held her head high and kept on working but I couldn't understand how they could laugh at the "fall of the upper classes" as they called it, unable to see how courageous and sincere my mother was. So you see, C.C., small minded people can be found anywhere, no matter which class they belong to."

"I feel like I'm in school," she muttered, but he could tell that she wasn't really angry with him.

"Point taken," he chuckled and rose to his feet "the lesson is over for today. Shall we resume tomorrow?"

The silence after that question always seemed to stretch on forever, maybe because it was more important to him than to her.

"Of course," she replied, nodding with a smile.

"Get some sleep," he softly said and with a final look at her, he left the room.