Chapter 6

The newly laundered sheets in the penthouse's guest room fell neatly and crisply over the freshly made bed, soft, fluffy pillows plumped like marshmallows tucked in at the top and mattress turned over. It was the last of the toughest chores Niles had had to do in that room, and if he had been in a better mood, he would've said that he was quite proud of himself for having done such good work.

But the heaviness of the place was too much for that. It was like he found himself clamped in chains whenever he stepped foot inside the apartment. Not that that meant he would stop coming. He couldn't.

There seemed to be an irony in the fact that the thing making him feel so bad was the only thing also making him feel better.

The burden was becoming an obsession, he knew, but he didn't care. It had been a little over a month now since Miss Babcock's quiet exit from all of their lives, and none of the days since had brought him (any of them, really) news or any sense of peace. This was as close as he got to the producer anymore, and he wasn't about to give it up.

Besides, Miss Babcock's penthouse currently was a much calmer place than the Sheffield mansion. The almost-complete-disappearance of the more practical, go-getting producer had slowed the business to half-speed. That set tension levels at "high" between Mr Sheffield and the rest of the family. At least, that was how it would've happened, had Maxwell told the story. As it seemed to anybody else – especially those who didn't have a grudge against Miss Babcock for leaving – Maxwell himself was the source of the tension and everyone else was, quite passively and innocently, in the vicinity. Much like planets orbited a sun, only the sun this time was burning hurt rage and betrayal rather than hydrogen gas.

Of course, he would never in a million years admit that he was hurt by Miss Babcock leaving. That was why he preferred to blow up any time somebody even so much as looked like they were about to mention her name. Unfortunately, that meant everybody trod on eggshells around him, while he almost seemed to dare them all to talk about it. It was maddening being there, waiting for the man to blow up at any moment for no real reason.

Today's morning had been particularly bad for the butler due to his boss' foul mood, so he'd come up with an old (but always useful) solution – he'd said he was having some minor chest pains and asked if he could take the day off. Just as Niles had planned, Mr Sheffield had reluctantly agreed. It wasn't so much as an act of kindness on Maxwell's part, but rather him not wanting to deal with Niles having a potential second heart attack and thus suddenly finding himself both without a business partner and a butler.

Niles had immediately headed out, claiming that long walks were beneficial for his cardiovascular health. He hadn't lied – he'd had to walk to Miss Babcock's home, after all, and it wasn't like Mr Sheffield had to know where he'd really chosen to spend his day off.

That, in turn, meant that he had more time to do what he wanted around the penthouse. Well, not "wanted" as in "do as he pleased", but he could complete every chore that Miss Babcock's apartment could ever need doing. Neat and tidy living and dining areas, dust-free home office and library, gleaming kitchen and bathrooms – he was making his way swiftly through them all.

It was going to look as though the place had never been lived in. Scratch that thought, actually – that kind of imagery made him feel uneasy. Almost like Miss Babcock had been wiped from existence. And, while he might've openly claimed before to want to be rid of the producer to anyone who would listen (and a few who didn't want to), he couldn't stomach the thought of...of...

The butler shook his head, mind immediately scraping for a distraction. He wasn't going to think of it. She would come back, eventually, and the penthouse would be ready and waiting when she did. He just had to keep the place in tip-top condition for that day.

Not that he had managed the entire place so far. Or that he even thought he would, by the time the producer returned. He...he still couldn't entertain the idea of entering her bedroom to clean, or tidy up, or make the bed...he didn't even think he could go in to just open the windows and let the air run through.

Not that the temptation wasn't there, any time he went in. He often took glances towards the corridor that led to her bedroom when he was passing through, but he never dared step in that direction.

He kept himself to himself and resolved to look elsewhere to clean, or to set things in order. Just as he was doing in that moment.

There had to be somewhere else that needed his attention; he hadn't been through the whole penthouse yet. And the guest room was complete now – he'd dusted the place from top to bottom, made the bed over and vacuumed the floor, as well as set out that day's bouquet of flowers on top of the dresser.

It looked ready for anybody to stay over, now – ready to be lived in again. The exact way he'd get the rest of the apartment looking in no time.

So, gathering up his cleaning supplies, he began to make his way back towards the living area, still looking over towards the door to Miss Babcock's room as he went...

Only this time, something was amiss. It was small and dark, but he could still see it, even from where he stood.

Curious, he set his supplies down and went over to take a look. He didn't remember anything like dust bunnies forming around the corridor – he would've been certain to clean those away if he had seen them before!

But the closer he got, the more obvious it became that it wasn't a clump of gathered dust, but a large black spider that had sat itself on the floor. Only as soon as it had seen him arrive, it had decided that its period of peaceful rest was over and it fled, scurrying under the door to Miss Babcock's bedroom.

"Oh, no you don't!" Niles grumbled under his breath and, without thinking twice about what he was about to do, he took off after the little creature.

He'd dealt with arachnids many a time in his years as a butler and, if there was one thing any self-respecting domestic knew, it was that any pest had to be nipped in the bud before it had a chance to spread. The last thing he needed was for all his hard work to be ruined by some slimy, eight-legged vermin.

He was in Miss Babcock's room in seconds, down on all fours and with his left shoe in his hand. He wasn't going to let that thing go without a fight.

"Where are you now, Mr Spider?" the butler cooed maliciously as he slowly went around the room, checking beneath the furniture. "Come out, come out, wherever you are!"

It was lucky there wasn't anyone around the penthouse apart from the butler – the sight of a middle aged man being driven bonkers by a simple spider was quite comical. He was especially glad that Miss Babcock wasn't there to see his humiliation. She'd never let him live that kind of shame down, and he could already hear the names, even as he crawled around on the floor looking for his new, multi-legged nemesis.

"Watch out! Here he comes, it's Spider-Barely-a-Man!"

"To think, the butler who thinks himself the finest wit, is being outwitted by a tiny little creature that has a brain the size of a mustard seed...!"

"You know, while you're crawling around down there in the parts you haven't cleaned, you could make the world's largest duster! You'll have achieved the peak of your purpose, Butler Boy."

It was making him feel...odd and sad, to think about how much he missed that. It was also making him wonder exactly what it had come to, that meant he was having to act as a Miss Babcock insult replacement in his own head.

But if he stopped and thought about that, the tiny, hairy bastard he was looking for would get away. If he did that, he'd make webs everywhere and they'd catch on everything, tying down dust and potentially piling up dead insects if the spider was lucky enough to find any. He was going to make the place untidy again!

And Niles wasn't having that – especially not if he wasn't going to clean or even really touch the...room he was now in...

He immediately scrambled to his feet, the problem of the smug little web spinning arsehole put on a back burner while his mind dealt with bigger issues.

Namely, the issue of how he had just barged into Miss Babcock's room! What had he done?! He wasn't supposed to be in there – even less than the spider was! He'd told himself and promised himself and dragged himself away from even thinking about going inside, and yet what had he done? How had he not been thinking?!

He didn't know – had the thought of letting a single spider into her room really been so terrible that he had broken his own promise?

He didn't know that, either. He didn't even know what to do now; Miss Babcock had never known that he'd been in there, for one thing. Could he maybe scoop up the wayward arachnid and take it out to the balcony, close the door behind him and forget this ever happened?

Or...or did he clean the room, like the rest of the penthouse? There was a chance that Miss Babcock would go nuclear on him for being in her most private and intimate space, but she would probably already have been angry at him for letting himself into her home without her permission...

Was there too much to lose? He doubted she'd appreciate it, but the rest of the place was practically brand-new in how much he'd cleaned it, in preparation for her return. And, the more he looked at his new surroundings, the more he realised that he simply couldn't leave her room unattended anymore.

Dust, some cobwebs and a distinct damp-ish smell had taken hold of Miss Babcock's bedroom, walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom, bringing forward just how long it had been since the spaces had been lived in. It was yet another depressing ode to her mysterious disappearance, and leaving it as it was, was now making him uneasy. He knew it was irrational, but if things were nice and clean it was almost as if…as if she'd never left.

As if she'd walk through the front door any minute from then, barking into her phone and clutching at a to-go cappuccino. It would have been a sight for sore eyes, but for now he'd have to make do with what little he had: cleaning.

Besides, at this point, cleaning was a necessity if he wanted to find the spider – the slippery little bastard could be anywhere, and what better way to find and end it than with a broom, a feather-duster and a can of Lysol?

Having made his decision, Niles put his shoe back on and started his cleaning endeavour by pulling up the blinds and opening the windows, letting some much needed air in to ventilate the previously suffocating room. The new light only made the room's state of disarray all the more clear, which in turn strengthened the butler's determination to leave it spick and span.

It wasn't long until Niles had brought over his best cleaning supplies and was scrubbing, dusting and sweeping around the room. He could truly be an efficient worker when he put his mind to it, and it soon started to show. Previously dusty furniture now gleamed, the floor was so clean one could eat off of it, the windows had been so thoroughly wiped that it looked as if there were no crystals in the frames, and everything smelled of flowers (courtesy of Niles nearly having emptied an entire can of air freshener around the room).

This was probably the most he'd cleaned in ages, but he didn't mind. He worked dutifully and silently, not really thinking about anything. After so many years of working as a butler, there were certain actions that came naturally to him – he just switched to auto-pilot, and that was that. He supposed it was the experience talking, in a way, but there was something pleasant about tuning everything out and just getting lost in the motions that were second nature to him. It let his mind rest from the constant worrisome thoughts that assailed it, day after day.

It took him almost two hours, but eventually Miss Babcock's bedroom, bathroom and walk-in closet were squeaky clean. He'd even managed to find and snuff the life out of his hairy nemesis, which had taken refuge beneath Miss Babcock's vanity. The only thing that was left for him to do, was change the bedsheets and that would be it. He always left that task for last – he absolutely hated making beds, especially if he knew he'd have to change and wash the dirty bedding afterwards.

With a sigh, Niles went over to Miss Babcock's bed and started his last task. The pillowcases were the first to go, and they were soon followed by the comforter and the bedsheets.

It was while removing the latter that a small, white envelope caught Niles' eye. It was hidden from view, tangled in between the bedsheets, almost as if someone had forgotten to stash it away safely. It was open, too, and from it a letter was peeking out.

Nile immediately felt his hands twitch.

He reached out for it before any half-conscious thought had formed in his head – he acted on impulse and in desperation. Under any other normal circumstances, he wouldn't have dared touch it (let alone read it), but in his mind there was no other possibility, currently.

He had to know.

He carefully pulled out and unfolded the letter, feeling drops of sweat forming and running down his spine and temples.

It read:

New Eden Clinic

Residential Treatment Center

September 5th, 1997

600 Westley Rd, Glencoe, IL

60022

+ 1 847-835-0350

Miss Chastity-Claire Babcock,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been granted a spot at New Eden Clinic. Just as you requested, you will be staying in Room 505 for the duration of your treatment.

We expect you to check yourself into the clinic by no later than September 15th.

We ask you to forward on a copy of your medical history, as well as copies of any recent medical reports and tests, to the Oncology Department so that your new oncologist, Dr Gregory Wilson, and his team may begin assessing your treatment regime.

Our Financial Department will soon be contacting you to discuss setting up a payment plan.

Once again, we thank you for your trust in us during these difficult times.

Regards,

James Lavin, MD

Patient Care Manager

Niles felt as if he'd been hit by a wrecking ball square in the chest.

He immediately tried to claw the feeling away, denying it even as the words flashed before his eyes and repeated themselves in his mind. No. No, no, no – this couldn't be happening! This had to be a mistake, didn't it?! Some horrible mix-up, or a case of mistaken identity! It had to be, surely?

But even as he scanned and scoured the page, even turning it over to look on the back, for something which pointed to this being some other Miss Babcock – one that...just happened to share her exact name and address...he realised it was useless.

Useless and hopeless.

Cancer. Miss Babcock had gone away, alone and without telling anybody why, because she had cancer! She hadn't just quit because she'd wanted to; she'd quit because she'd had to! She'd run away from it all, to avoid having to tell them the truth! The truth about her...her illness...

He recoiled in horror even at the thought. Miss Babcock had run away – checked herself into this...this "New Eden Clinic" – a month and a half ago. She'd been away for treatment for all the time that had gone past, and no one had even the slightest inkling of where she'd been in all of that time!

But why hadn't she told them?! Not him, necessarily – in fact, definitely; he knew he would be the last person she'd ever want to know this – but the Sheffields! They were her friends, they had been for years, and they would have understood her reasons for going! They would've provided the love and support that anybody needed to get through something like this!

He would've seen them. He would've watched it happen, because he knew damn well that he wouldn't have been allowed to help. He hadn't earned that right.

But the others definitely had, and would continue to earn it as they apologised so profusely for acting as they had.

They'd be so sorry, for all of it – they just hadn't had a clue! And they'd been getting on with their days (as much as he'd been able to), letting Maxwell spout off with his hideous, angry rants against Miss Babcock whenever he'd wanted! He'd called her a Judas in high heels, a blonde she-wolf, the Benedict Arnold of Broadway...! Each line had been more insulting than the next, every session more enraged, and even if they had thought Mr Sheffield should've started to calm down and cut Miss Babcock some slack, they hadn't ever openly defended her! They'd all been too afraid of what would happen, if they'd simply told him to shut the hell up...

They'd had no idea how afraid Miss Babcock would have been. Still was, most likely.

Niles wanted to hit himself. How could they have done this to her?! How could they have let Maxwell just stand there and say such awful things without even so much as checking what might have been going on?! How could he and the Sheffields have not tried harder to find out where she had gone? She'd been alone when she'd needed her friends most; she was going through treatment that would take tolls on her body like most would never believe! She'd been suffering by herself for all that time with no one there to help her, no one to hold her hand through the worst of the pain, no one to tell her that it would be alright at the end...

But was it alright? How could he know? What if even the doctors didn't know yet?!

At that thought, his breath immediately began to speed up, his heart pounding in his aching chest. He shoved it to one side, though – he could've really been having another heart attack and he wouldn't have cared! It didn't matter! Not now that he knew this!

He had to find out, but how?! He couldn't simply hop on a plane to Chicago and rush to her hospital! There were too many variables to consider – what if she wasn't well enough to receive people? What if she was in isolation? What if something had gone wrong and she'd been moved somewhere else? What if she was dy––

No.

No, he couldn't and wouldn't think that. He couldn't automatically think the worst – it would be an insult both to the doctors treating her (who were probably a few of the best professionals in America) and to Miss Babcock's fighting spirit. She wasn't the type to go without a fight – she was pure steel, and would beat the living daylights out of anyone or anything that came her way.

He had to be smart about it – go step by step, the first of those being actually finding out if she was still at this New Eden clinic. Luckily for him, the wretched letter he was currently holding had already provided him with enough data to do just that. The only other thing he needed was a phone, and there was a perfectly functional one sitting right there on Miss Babcock's nightstand.

He had to take a few deep breaths to steady his racing heart – he didn't think he would be able to get a word out otherwise. Not that he was planning on having a long conversation or anything; he just had to find out if she was there or not. Truth be told, he didn't know what he'd do in either case scenario! Her being there would only confirm his fears, but if she wasn't at the clinic then he'd be left with no leads to follow and would be back to square one, and probably with even more questions than he currently had.

He just had to see it through, by the look of things – try and figure everything out as he went, regardless of how he felt…

It would be taking a leap of faith. An enormous leap, into an abyss that may or may not have a soft and happy landing. But he had to do it anyway; this was his one hope of getting anywhere.

And he had to stop stalling by "gearing himself up". He had the letter with the phone number, the phone was right there – he had nothing left to stop him.

Taking in one final deep breath and keeping the letter in one hand, he grabbed the phone and dialled in the number before he could chicken out. He had to hold his resolve and each button was a bullet to bite, but soon enough, he was holding the device to his ear and listening to the tone as a phone rang in a hospital somewhere in Illinois.

He was almost wondering if he'd been let off the hook when it was answered.

"Good morning, this is the New Eden Clinic. How can I help you?"

"Y-Yes! Hi, hello," Niles nearly yelped, everything he'd thought to himself about keeping calm and in control. "I, um – I was wondering if you could help me."

"Of course, sir; what did you need help with today?"

Not sounding like an idiot, perhaps? The butler took in another calming breath and got rid of the thought before trying again.

"I wish to speak to a...friend of mine. Her name is Miss Chastity-Claire Babcock, in Room 505."

He knew she'd scoff, or maybe even loudly protest, at him calling them friends. But what else was he going to do? He couldn't exactly say "Excuse me, I've spent the last fifteen years making one of your patient's lives a source of my amusement. Can you help me find her?", could he?

The receptionist didn't even seem to suspect that that could be on his mind. Her bright, pleasant and unsuspecting smile seemed to beam at him directly through the phone.

"Certainly, sir. Hang on just a moment and I'll put you right through."

Niles felt his organs suspend, uneasily, in the air. Like they'd suddenly been put in zero gravity and the rest of him hadn't been.

Well, that had been...easy enough, he supposed. They hadn't even asked him who he was, or anything! They hadn't taken his name or address, or done anything to suggest they needed a background check...! Was that even legal?

He didn't know for certain, but a little voice at the back of his head reminded him that he shouldn't care. Not at the moment, anyway, when there wasn't going to be any harm. He only wanted to know that Miss Babcock was still there, after all.

Thanking the receptionist, he waited for the line to be connected.

It rang about twice at the most before a familiar hand with a familiar voice picked up.

"Hello?"

Oh God…

It was her! It really was her. There was no way he'd mistake it. The voice on the other end was Miss Babcock's. After all the weeks she'd been away, she was still there, at the clinic!

And she sounded...unwell. Tired, and worn down, as though she'd had life drained right out of her. It made him want to reach out and ask what he could get for her, in order to make it all alright again. Even though he knew there was nothing.

But he couldn't do that. She'd never listen if she knew it was him. She'd hang up, and make sure she never answered to him again.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

She was starting to sound worried, too (who wouldn't be, after being called by a stranger who then refused to speak?). But he didn't want to prolong it; he had all the information he needed.

So, fighting the last minute hesitation and urge to say something – anything – he put the phone down, ignored the unmade bed he'd never gotten around to finishing and hastily left the room.

He had to; he couldn't stand being in there anymore. Not when he'd just had an idea.

If Miss Babcock was at the clinic still and would only ever hang up on him if he called, then the only thing he could do (his only remaining plan) was the crazy idea he'd had earlier, wasn't it? Flying to Chicago to travel to see her in person! He didn't know why the idea had just jumped back into his head – maybe it was hearing how unwell and far away she sounded – but it was there and it wasn't letting go.

He wouldn't let it go, either. It was the only plan he had and he was sticking to it. It didn't even really matter that he knew Miss Babcock would unleash her wrath on him for even attempting to contact her right now. He had to try to get through to her, and this was the only way.

He didn't care that Mr Sheffield would probably flare up at him the moment he told the him he was going away. It wouldn't even matter that he wasn't planning on telling him where; Maxwell would just have to do without a butler – Niles had a ton of unused vacation days that he'd just elected to use up all at once, and that was that!

He could take as long as he liked then, as well, and he'd find out what was going on.

At least, he hoped he would.

Taking one last look at the work he'd done around the penthouse, he made his way towards the front door. He had to leave, right now. He'd have to catch a plane very soon, and he still needed to pack.

AN: It's happening, folks, no more teasing! We are so happy you are liking our story and thank you profusely for taking the time to read it and review it. Your comments make our day!