Well, Allison, since you seem to be the only one enjoying(as it were) this story, I dedicate it to you.
Enjoy it, and always remember, there is a reason, people are, as they are...
*~
Part three of C.C.'s tale, and you need quiet alot of patience for this one.
*~
Disclaimer: The Nanny, and all respective characters belong to their respective owners.
Tylor Woodgrave, however, is mine. You can use him,
but ask for permission first.
*~
*************************************************************************
Years frozen in erzulie
*~
"I remember that case," whispered Niles. All turned to face him.
"Tylor Woodgrave. Everybody thought, it was a hoax, that the girl and her family were trying a run for his money.
Nobody believed her, and Woodgrave even went so far, as to demand that she bring the baby to court, where it could be tested by renowned doctors of his-Woodgrave's-choice."
"And?" asked Fran breathless.
"Of course, most thought, she would back down, although the jury was sure, she would go through with it. What nobody expected, was, to see a sixteen year old teenaged mother show up with a eighteen month old boy."
"Eigh-sixteen? But then..she was younger than..me", mumbled Grace aghast, even as Fran wrapped her in a reassuring hug.
Niles nodded, then resumed:
"Of course, the tests were taken, and turned out a 100% match. He was spoken guilty in all cases,
forced to pay all court costs, aswell as the upbringing and education for both mother and child, plus, had to pay 75'000£ for physical and mental harm. Two days later, he was found dead in his appartment."
"Good riddance!" snarled Brighton, but was shushed by his father, who continued reading aloud.
*~
'The day he was condemned guilty, I was there, completely in the back. As he passed my row, I turned to face him, giving him a cold sharp smile, letting him know for sure, it was me, who had orchestrated his downfall.
That day, C.C., the girl died, and in her place stood C.C. Babcock, the woman without heart.
All I lived for now, was to find my place in the business world. After the exams, Sarah took me in, by introducing us to each other.
I became your secretary, but remained loyal only to Sarah. I never meant to fall in love with you, honestly.
Then she got sick, and I saw the only friend I ever had fade away. I went to see her, two days before she died, and she made me promise, to look after her family. Until this day, her voice rings in my ears:
'"Please, C.C., please, promise me, to take care of my children. See to it, that you find
someone who loves them just as much as you do. And do what you can, to make Maxwell happy again".'
"Suuure!" echoed Fran, Niles and the children.
Macwell shot them a dirty look, telling them to be quiet, then continued:
'I'm not expecting anyone to believe this, but Sarah was the only real friend I ever had, she was there, when my own family would have turned me down in the drop of a hat"-
"Like a hot potatoe!" snorted Niles, but was quietened by another "Shut up, Niles!"
'-and please stay quiet, at least, until the letter is read, okay? As I said, Sarah was my only friend and confidant, so the least I could do for her, was to try to grant her her last wish.
To be honest, I didn't knew, how to do that, because I was just as devastated as Maxwell himself.
So I decided, to let our collective wounds heal, and then decide my approach.
My first and foremost concern were you children-oh, I knew, you didn't like me, for I had seen to that myself.
I kept making you believe, that I didn't like children, when in real, I was protecting myself
from the pain.
Yes, everytime I looked at one of you, I thought about what I had lost, and that made me sad.
So, I started claiming, I didn't like you, until I believed it myself. With time, this veneer became like a second skin, I put on in the mornings, before I came to work, and I can no doubt say, that I had all of you fooled for years, day in, day out.
But the nights, oh god, those terrible, lonely nights, when I cried and drank myself to sleep, grieving over the hatred I felt reflected at me, which I had wantonly caused.
Maxwell left the choice of the Nannies to me, and I tried to get the best there were-
how was I to know, none of these I chose, really cared about you? How was I to know, that by making the wrong choice, I would indirectly be the cause of Maggie's insecurities, Brighton's naivité and Gracie's emotional wrecking?
I know, what you're thinking-no, I did not go through your birth certifiates, or checked your diaries, or something like that. I know your full names and birthdays by heart.
*~
Margaret Charlotte Victoria, you were born on a stormy night, short past one o'clock, on Tuesday, 27th of march, in the ER of Boston's Mother of Mercy Hospital.
Your mother had eaten a crab consommé, right before she went into labour, and we were joking, that you were fighting with the crabs over who was to stay in. Luckily, the crabs won.'
Maxwell smiled sadly.
"Yeah, I remember that. 'I think, the crabs pinched her again!' she would laugh, when another contraction hit her."
"C.C. was there?" Maggie asked incredulously, and Maxwell nodded.
"Yes, and she was great! She came storming into that ER, while the taxi driver and I helped Sarah out of the cab, demanded to see the boss, or highest in charge, and told him in no uncertain terms, that she would ruin his career, if he would not clear a place and give her the best people and treatment avaiable, to help her friend and her arriving baby."
Mouths wide agape, the others tried to digest this piece of information.
Finally, Brighton cleared his throath and rasped:
"Was she there to, when..when I was..born?"
His father frowned, then nodded slowly.
"Let me see", demanded Brighton, as he reached for the letter, but Maxwell drew it from his reach.
"You don't believe me?" he asked, but his son shook his head.
"I don't believe *her*. I want to see for myself, if she remembers."
Maxwell hesitated a moment, then handed him the epistle.
'Brighton Adam Charlton, I nearly missed your birth. That Monday, eighteenth of June, I was on the plane home from L.A, where I had interviewed an actor, when suddenly, I got a phone from your father, telling me, that Sarah had just broken her water whilst a shopping spree.
Five hours, twenty-five cups of tea and three hysterical stewardesses later, I touched ground
in JFK International Airport, where the limousine waited for me.
On arrival, I found Maxwell, who was as mere nervous wreck, and could barely write his name.
Just as we finished the formularities, the nurse came running, telling us, that Mr. Sheffield Junior had just been born, at exactly four thirty EST.
Maxwell nearly fainted and the nurse had to practically drag him to the nursery.'
Maxwell frowned.
"I can't remember that part", he mumbled, but then shrugged it off. Brighton went on.
'Sweet little Grace Sarah Claire, you were indeed a surprise. Your estimated birth would have been somewhere around October, but instead, you decided to arrive at eight in the morning on the 23rd of September-
the same day as me.
Which is probably, why I took a liking for you from the very start. When I was finally aloud to see you, the first thing you did, was to sneeze into my face, twice. Only a couple of years later, we found out, you had a gingerbread allergy-and it was the one thing, we, being your mother and I, had eaten plenty of that day.'
"And I always thought, I was allergic against her", mumbled Grace, even as she wiped a stray tear from her face.
Brighton gave a faint smile, the read on:
'I have always been protective about you, in the only way, I knew how. I wanted to show you, what damage power can do to a person, by using myself as example. I wanted you to be alert about the world you were going to grow up into, and never take anything for given, people like me told you.
So when Maxwell introduced you, Fran, as the new Nanny, I was understandably shocked:
How could a jewish girl from Flushings teach you anything about the twisted scheming and foul plays of the rich and powerful of upper Manhattan?
Only in time I found out, that you gave them, what they so badly needed, and I could never give them: a confidant.
In you, they found someone who understood them, laughed, cried, joked and pranked with them, who gave them love, and someone, they could come to in a stormy night.
And I envied you, every time one of the kids came with a problem, and you weren't around, they would rather wait for your return, than take my advise. I was sad, and proud at the same time, because they had learned one of life's most important lessons: be careful, who you trust.'
Brighton looked up, and locked eyes with his sisters.
"She's right. As soon as some guy tells me, he's from this and this place, or owns a business, I put up all my defenses."
"Brighton," said Grace, "you don't have any defenses."
"Do so!"
"Do not!"
"Do so!"
"Do not"
"Children, children, that will be enough of that, thank you very much, Brighton, but I will continue reading!" bellowed Fran, as she snatched the letter from the youngster's hand.
Frowning, she shook her head.
"No really, show a little more respect. I mean, C.C's pouring out her heart here!"
"One have to have a heart first before-"
"Shut up Niles, and if you open your jaws again, before we're through with the letter, there will be no more Annual Butler Congress for you, as long as you live!" shouted Maxwell.
Niles paled and sank down on the chaiselonge.
'I suppose, Niles just cracked a joke about my missing heart. That's one thing, I always appreciated about you, Niles: your sense of humor, your wit, and cunning retorts. Never mind how much I l-' Fran choked.
"What did she l-? Fran?" asked Maxwell confused, as he saw his fiancée go quiet (wich in itself was a reason to be worried).
The brunette grinned nervously, and shook her head in her guilty 'no worries'-manner.
"Err, well, the ink's a little smudgy here, and I think, I'll just have to guess, so-"
"Let me see", said Maxwell, as he tried to pry the letter from Fran's hands. She wouldn't give, but he could read the lines clearly, anyway.
'-retorts. Never mind how much I came to love Maxwell, you, Niles, were the only *mock* sparring partner I ever had, who could actually come up against me. We both knew, how to push each other's buttons, and always knew, when to stop.
Or so I thought. Aside of all our bickering, taunting, teasing, pranking and-what-not-ever, I really thought, we had reached a point of unspoken respect, a hidden line, which none of us would ever step over.
Until last night, when I opened my door and saw, or rather heard, the singing telegram you had sent me. I knew in my heart, it was from you, no doubt about that.
But all I could ask myself was, why? Why do you hate me this much?
You knew, probably better than anyone else, how I felt about Maxwell, how much I loved him, and how much his engagement with Fran would hurt me, yet, you chose to give me the killing blow, when I was already down and out?
I deserve better than that, even from you, Niles.
Because never mind, how different we are, there's one thing that bonds us together:
Our unmoved loyaltly to Maxwell, Sarah, Margaret, Brighton and Grace Sheffield. They are the family, both of us never had.
And now you went, and took that away from me, too.
And never mind, how much I try, I doubt, I will ever be able to forgive you.
Everybody can hurt too much, and so I do.'
*~
Maxwell paused, straightened himself and turned to his butler.
"Is this true, what she wrote, Niles? That she loved me, that you knew it, and that you used that knowledge, to destroy her?"
Niles shifted uncomfortably on his seat.
"Well, Sir, if I had known it would have such an effect, I would have of course second guessed my decision, but the opportunity was just too tempting, and so-"
"The hell with that, and the hell with you, you cranky old man! How dare you hurt C.C. in such a way? Noboy deserves, that, nobody! Just because of your stupid, twisted sense of humor I lost both a co-producer and a good friend! How are you going to fix that? Do you think, women like C.C. fall off of trees?!?"
Fran cooed soothing words, even as she patted her future husband's chest and shoulders.
Agitated, he calmed himself a little, as he shrugged his blazer back into place.
"Now, Niles, would you be so kind, as to enlighten us, what the content of that telegram was?"
*~
***************************************************************************
We all know, what the content of the telegram is. I didn't find it funny, and if the writer/producer would have cared about C.C's character, he would have never pulled it through. There are just some things, you don't do, even if it's a fictive character-
especially, if it's supposed to be a family-friendly, comical sitcom.
Enjoy it, and always remember, there is a reason, people are, as they are...
*~
Part three of C.C.'s tale, and you need quiet alot of patience for this one.
*~
Disclaimer: The Nanny, and all respective characters belong to their respective owners.
Tylor Woodgrave, however, is mine. You can use him,
but ask for permission first.
*~
*************************************************************************
Years frozen in erzulie
*~
"I remember that case," whispered Niles. All turned to face him.
"Tylor Woodgrave. Everybody thought, it was a hoax, that the girl and her family were trying a run for his money.
Nobody believed her, and Woodgrave even went so far, as to demand that she bring the baby to court, where it could be tested by renowned doctors of his-Woodgrave's-choice."
"And?" asked Fran breathless.
"Of course, most thought, she would back down, although the jury was sure, she would go through with it. What nobody expected, was, to see a sixteen year old teenaged mother show up with a eighteen month old boy."
"Eigh-sixteen? But then..she was younger than..me", mumbled Grace aghast, even as Fran wrapped her in a reassuring hug.
Niles nodded, then resumed:
"Of course, the tests were taken, and turned out a 100% match. He was spoken guilty in all cases,
forced to pay all court costs, aswell as the upbringing and education for both mother and child, plus, had to pay 75'000£ for physical and mental harm. Two days later, he was found dead in his appartment."
"Good riddance!" snarled Brighton, but was shushed by his father, who continued reading aloud.
*~
'The day he was condemned guilty, I was there, completely in the back. As he passed my row, I turned to face him, giving him a cold sharp smile, letting him know for sure, it was me, who had orchestrated his downfall.
That day, C.C., the girl died, and in her place stood C.C. Babcock, the woman without heart.
All I lived for now, was to find my place in the business world. After the exams, Sarah took me in, by introducing us to each other.
I became your secretary, but remained loyal only to Sarah. I never meant to fall in love with you, honestly.
Then she got sick, and I saw the only friend I ever had fade away. I went to see her, two days before she died, and she made me promise, to look after her family. Until this day, her voice rings in my ears:
'"Please, C.C., please, promise me, to take care of my children. See to it, that you find
someone who loves them just as much as you do. And do what you can, to make Maxwell happy again".'
"Suuure!" echoed Fran, Niles and the children.
Macwell shot them a dirty look, telling them to be quiet, then continued:
'I'm not expecting anyone to believe this, but Sarah was the only real friend I ever had, she was there, when my own family would have turned me down in the drop of a hat"-
"Like a hot potatoe!" snorted Niles, but was quietened by another "Shut up, Niles!"
'-and please stay quiet, at least, until the letter is read, okay? As I said, Sarah was my only friend and confidant, so the least I could do for her, was to try to grant her her last wish.
To be honest, I didn't knew, how to do that, because I was just as devastated as Maxwell himself.
So I decided, to let our collective wounds heal, and then decide my approach.
My first and foremost concern were you children-oh, I knew, you didn't like me, for I had seen to that myself.
I kept making you believe, that I didn't like children, when in real, I was protecting myself
from the pain.
Yes, everytime I looked at one of you, I thought about what I had lost, and that made me sad.
So, I started claiming, I didn't like you, until I believed it myself. With time, this veneer became like a second skin, I put on in the mornings, before I came to work, and I can no doubt say, that I had all of you fooled for years, day in, day out.
But the nights, oh god, those terrible, lonely nights, when I cried and drank myself to sleep, grieving over the hatred I felt reflected at me, which I had wantonly caused.
Maxwell left the choice of the Nannies to me, and I tried to get the best there were-
how was I to know, none of these I chose, really cared about you? How was I to know, that by making the wrong choice, I would indirectly be the cause of Maggie's insecurities, Brighton's naivité and Gracie's emotional wrecking?
I know, what you're thinking-no, I did not go through your birth certifiates, or checked your diaries, or something like that. I know your full names and birthdays by heart.
*~
Margaret Charlotte Victoria, you were born on a stormy night, short past one o'clock, on Tuesday, 27th of march, in the ER of Boston's Mother of Mercy Hospital.
Your mother had eaten a crab consommé, right before she went into labour, and we were joking, that you were fighting with the crabs over who was to stay in. Luckily, the crabs won.'
Maxwell smiled sadly.
"Yeah, I remember that. 'I think, the crabs pinched her again!' she would laugh, when another contraction hit her."
"C.C. was there?" Maggie asked incredulously, and Maxwell nodded.
"Yes, and she was great! She came storming into that ER, while the taxi driver and I helped Sarah out of the cab, demanded to see the boss, or highest in charge, and told him in no uncertain terms, that she would ruin his career, if he would not clear a place and give her the best people and treatment avaiable, to help her friend and her arriving baby."
Mouths wide agape, the others tried to digest this piece of information.
Finally, Brighton cleared his throath and rasped:
"Was she there to, when..when I was..born?"
His father frowned, then nodded slowly.
"Let me see", demanded Brighton, as he reached for the letter, but Maxwell drew it from his reach.
"You don't believe me?" he asked, but his son shook his head.
"I don't believe *her*. I want to see for myself, if she remembers."
Maxwell hesitated a moment, then handed him the epistle.
'Brighton Adam Charlton, I nearly missed your birth. That Monday, eighteenth of June, I was on the plane home from L.A, where I had interviewed an actor, when suddenly, I got a phone from your father, telling me, that Sarah had just broken her water whilst a shopping spree.
Five hours, twenty-five cups of tea and three hysterical stewardesses later, I touched ground
in JFK International Airport, where the limousine waited for me.
On arrival, I found Maxwell, who was as mere nervous wreck, and could barely write his name.
Just as we finished the formularities, the nurse came running, telling us, that Mr. Sheffield Junior had just been born, at exactly four thirty EST.
Maxwell nearly fainted and the nurse had to practically drag him to the nursery.'
Maxwell frowned.
"I can't remember that part", he mumbled, but then shrugged it off. Brighton went on.
'Sweet little Grace Sarah Claire, you were indeed a surprise. Your estimated birth would have been somewhere around October, but instead, you decided to arrive at eight in the morning on the 23rd of September-
the same day as me.
Which is probably, why I took a liking for you from the very start. When I was finally aloud to see you, the first thing you did, was to sneeze into my face, twice. Only a couple of years later, we found out, you had a gingerbread allergy-and it was the one thing, we, being your mother and I, had eaten plenty of that day.'
"And I always thought, I was allergic against her", mumbled Grace, even as she wiped a stray tear from her face.
Brighton gave a faint smile, the read on:
'I have always been protective about you, in the only way, I knew how. I wanted to show you, what damage power can do to a person, by using myself as example. I wanted you to be alert about the world you were going to grow up into, and never take anything for given, people like me told you.
So when Maxwell introduced you, Fran, as the new Nanny, I was understandably shocked:
How could a jewish girl from Flushings teach you anything about the twisted scheming and foul plays of the rich and powerful of upper Manhattan?
Only in time I found out, that you gave them, what they so badly needed, and I could never give them: a confidant.
In you, they found someone who understood them, laughed, cried, joked and pranked with them, who gave them love, and someone, they could come to in a stormy night.
And I envied you, every time one of the kids came with a problem, and you weren't around, they would rather wait for your return, than take my advise. I was sad, and proud at the same time, because they had learned one of life's most important lessons: be careful, who you trust.'
Brighton looked up, and locked eyes with his sisters.
"She's right. As soon as some guy tells me, he's from this and this place, or owns a business, I put up all my defenses."
"Brighton," said Grace, "you don't have any defenses."
"Do so!"
"Do not!"
"Do so!"
"Do not"
"Children, children, that will be enough of that, thank you very much, Brighton, but I will continue reading!" bellowed Fran, as she snatched the letter from the youngster's hand.
Frowning, she shook her head.
"No really, show a little more respect. I mean, C.C's pouring out her heart here!"
"One have to have a heart first before-"
"Shut up Niles, and if you open your jaws again, before we're through with the letter, there will be no more Annual Butler Congress for you, as long as you live!" shouted Maxwell.
Niles paled and sank down on the chaiselonge.
'I suppose, Niles just cracked a joke about my missing heart. That's one thing, I always appreciated about you, Niles: your sense of humor, your wit, and cunning retorts. Never mind how much I l-' Fran choked.
"What did she l-? Fran?" asked Maxwell confused, as he saw his fiancée go quiet (wich in itself was a reason to be worried).
The brunette grinned nervously, and shook her head in her guilty 'no worries'-manner.
"Err, well, the ink's a little smudgy here, and I think, I'll just have to guess, so-"
"Let me see", said Maxwell, as he tried to pry the letter from Fran's hands. She wouldn't give, but he could read the lines clearly, anyway.
'-retorts. Never mind how much I came to love Maxwell, you, Niles, were the only *mock* sparring partner I ever had, who could actually come up against me. We both knew, how to push each other's buttons, and always knew, when to stop.
Or so I thought. Aside of all our bickering, taunting, teasing, pranking and-what-not-ever, I really thought, we had reached a point of unspoken respect, a hidden line, which none of us would ever step over.
Until last night, when I opened my door and saw, or rather heard, the singing telegram you had sent me. I knew in my heart, it was from you, no doubt about that.
But all I could ask myself was, why? Why do you hate me this much?
You knew, probably better than anyone else, how I felt about Maxwell, how much I loved him, and how much his engagement with Fran would hurt me, yet, you chose to give me the killing blow, when I was already down and out?
I deserve better than that, even from you, Niles.
Because never mind, how different we are, there's one thing that bonds us together:
Our unmoved loyaltly to Maxwell, Sarah, Margaret, Brighton and Grace Sheffield. They are the family, both of us never had.
And now you went, and took that away from me, too.
And never mind, how much I try, I doubt, I will ever be able to forgive you.
Everybody can hurt too much, and so I do.'
*~
Maxwell paused, straightened himself and turned to his butler.
"Is this true, what she wrote, Niles? That she loved me, that you knew it, and that you used that knowledge, to destroy her?"
Niles shifted uncomfortably on his seat.
"Well, Sir, if I had known it would have such an effect, I would have of course second guessed my decision, but the opportunity was just too tempting, and so-"
"The hell with that, and the hell with you, you cranky old man! How dare you hurt C.C. in such a way? Noboy deserves, that, nobody! Just because of your stupid, twisted sense of humor I lost both a co-producer and a good friend! How are you going to fix that? Do you think, women like C.C. fall off of trees?!?"
Fran cooed soothing words, even as she patted her future husband's chest and shoulders.
Agitated, he calmed himself a little, as he shrugged his blazer back into place.
"Now, Niles, would you be so kind, as to enlighten us, what the content of that telegram was?"
*~
***************************************************************************
We all know, what the content of the telegram is. I didn't find it funny, and if the writer/producer would have cared about C.C's character, he would have never pulled it through. There are just some things, you don't do, even if it's a fictive character-
especially, if it's supposed to be a family-friendly, comical sitcom.