Chapter 11

The next two weeks flew by faster than both Niles and C.C. would have ever imagined or, surprisingly enough for the both of them, wanted to. While their reunion had been anything but easy, they had quickly fallen into a comfortable routine: C.C. would have the mornings to herself (mostly so she could sleep in for as long as she wished) and Niles would arrive around lunchtime, always bringing with him a yummy treat for them to share.

At first, he would leave around tea time, but as the days had gone by and C.C. had felt progressively better, he'd started staying until dinnertime. It hadn't been a conscious decision – it had simply been a natural consequence of C.C. being up to do more things than just staying in bed. They'd been to the clinic's cinema, taken some classes together (Niles had certainly impressed everyone with his cooking skills in cooking class), and gone for long walks around the clinic's gardens.

It certainly had been the most active (and happy) she'd been in a long while. Not that either of them would have dared mention it, but it showed – she was still sick, yes, but there was a spark of life in her eyes that had been MIA for longer than C.C. would have liked to admit.

But, as always, all good things must come to an end, and their fun little break had come to a grinding halt with C.C.'s latest infusion. The first one of her second cycle in her chemotherapy treatment. Niles had been there to help her pass the time and distract her from the painful side effects that had become a bit of a staple of her treatment. There wasn't anything he could do to stop the vomiting or her recurring fevers, but C.C. appreciated him being there anyway. She knew the side effects would eventually wear off, but she couldn't help resenting being so worn out that she could barely move, let alone entertain any visitors.

It was frustrating her to no end. Especially when she knew Niles would be flying back to NYC that evening. This was not how she'd envisioned their farewell, and her annoyance had been showing since Niles had arrived at the clinic to share their last day together.

He'd done his best to cheer her up, but as the time for him to leave was fast approaching, she could hardly be bothered.

"There, there Babcock," Niles said as he helped her sit up in bed so she could have her dinner, which Cameron had only just brought in for her. "I know it's not ideal, but some things just can't be helped."

"Easy for you to say, Dust Buster," she grumbled. "You aren't the one stuck in here, with nothing to do all day."

"I hardly think scrubbing Mr Sheffield's floors and underwear qualifies as entertainment," Niles replied, perching on the side of her bed. "Besides, I'll be back soon enough. You can spend all that time jotting down clever zingers to toss my way next time I'm over."

C.C.'s face broke into a tiny smile – yes, he would be back. As crazy and impossible as that idea had once sounded, he'd somehow gotten her to agree (and maybe look forward) to a next visit. Having His Royal Arseness around certainly helped break the monotony that characterised life at the clinic.

Obviously, there had to be limits on it all, though. And she was the one who got to put a cap on it when it all became too much.

"They'll be right here and waiting for the second you squeeze that enormous butler behind of yours through the door," she told him. Then she pointed at him warningly. "As long as you keep that equally big butler mouth shut. So help you God if you make the mistake of telling anybody about this place!"

Niles sighed in a way that meant she knew – just knew, instinctively by now – that some sort of attempt at a Serious Talk was to follow. He shifted around a little bit on the bed so he could look more directly at her, too, which only made the whole thing that whole lot worse.

Did he really have to do this? It was his last few hours with her for those weeks and he was gonna spend them talking about things she didn't want to talk about?

"Are you really not even going to entertain the thought of anyone else coming and visiting? Apart from your brother," he'd clearly been able to see where she would've taken her answer, so he'd thrown that last bit in there.

"I don't need to," she replied instead, folding her arms over. "Having you around has been…weirdly acceptable – almost nice, if you will – but now I'm back to living my life in this place solo. And I don't need anybody else coming along and poking their noses around in my business when I've very clearly hung a "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door."

"Babcock, please, can you be reasonable?" he said, sighing deeply.

"I am reasonable!" she snapped back. "I'm a grown adult, Niles, and I've made my decision. I don't understand what's so difficult for you, Wilson and Noel to understand! I don't need anyone. I'm strong enough to kick this bastard cancer in the ass on my own!"

"No one is questioning your strength!" he said. "I know you are made of bloody steel, woman; I've said so before. But what's so bad about reaching out to people who actually care about you when things get ugly? What could possibly go wrong?!"

"Nothing needs to go wrong for me to want some goddamn privacy, Niles! It's my fucking cho––"

With a horrible and humiliatingly loud groan, C.C. doubled over, retching violently. The tightness in her stomach and the awful nauseous sensation in her throat stopped her from swearing, but that didn't mean she wasn't thinking it. Fuck, this couldn't be happening now – not when she was so close to making a point!

But it wasn't as though her stomach gave a shit about that; it squeezed harder, unbearably warm and sending pain surging through her body with every breath she couldn't quite take. The heaving took its place, and she didn't think it would stop until it had found something to redecorate her bedsheets with.

Thinking the exact same thing and instantly wanting to do anything possible to stop it, Niles leapt from the bed and grabbed the trash can from the floor. He spun on his heel to bring it back to her, his own stomach in knots, and held it out for her to snatch from his grip and pull close to catch whatever came. C.C. reached over with both hands, taking the trash can in one and grabbing Niles' own hand in the other.

She held on like that for dear life as she continued to heave into the bin, occasionally stopping to cough hard enough to hack up a lung. Niles let her grip tighten or loosen as she wanted, but he didn't dare think of pulling away or letting go. Not even when she, at last, turned her face away from the bin, gasped in a pained breath of air, and burst into tears.

Something cracked inside him when she did, and his other hand slowly reached out towards her.

"Are you okay no—"

"Of course I'm not okay!" C.C. screamed back, making him flinch and finally pull away from holding her hand. "I'm tired of this same old bullshit day after day; I'm sick of being sick, I'm sick of being in pain, I just want it all to be over already so I can go home!"

Fresh hot, angry tears burst from her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. The pain in her chest had doubled at the word "home", a little bit of envy at the fact that Niles got to go and she didn't creeping in right along with it. She wanted to go. She almost didn't care how she got to leave New Eden anymore – one way or another, she'd have to go home, wouldn't she? Whether it was on her feet or in a box didn't matter if it meant she got to stop feeling so shitty!

Shaken and verbally slapped back to reality, Niles let the hand she'd been holding close up and come back to his chest. His heart was pounding nearly out of his rib cage, sore and aching and now more than a little desperate to make it all back up to her. How could he have been so stupid? Of course she wasn't okay – she'd just spent the last three minutes dry heaving and had then immediately burst into tears! In what universe had he been to think it'd been right or fair to ask if she was okay?!

She'd…she'd even gone to the most basic instinct for comfort by holding hands with him…

That was how bad it had been. He could only have lost his mind in those last few moments, because anybody with even a lick of sense would've known that a C.C. Babcock who was willingly holding hands with him would never have been described as "okay"!

He wished he could make her okay. He wished more than anything that he could help her go home, like she wanted. But the only way he knew how to even get her to the next step was to continue the argument they'd been having before, and there was no way on Earth she was up for that. She needed rest, care, and relaxation, not a conversation-turned-screaming match that would probably end up getting both of them nowhere.

More than likely, it was a talk best left for another time. For when he came back, perhaps, and she was feeling stronger. Or at least not as upset as she was feeling right now…

"You will," he said quietly, seating himself again and letting his hand drop away from his chest to rest on the unused bin. "You'll get there. It will just take time and a good deal of fight, is all, and I know you have more than enough of that."

C.C. spluttered out a cough and sniffed. She either didn't have any tears left or had managed to stop herself from crying. Niles figured that was as much of a reply as he was going to get in the moment, so he continued.

"Do you think it's stopped for now? I can help you to lie down, if you need to rest a while…"

A few seconds passed as C.C. considered this, before she sniffed again and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's stopped for now…" she murmured, slowly releasing her hold on the trash can and breathing as steadily as she could. "An…a lie down sounds good…"

Niles almost considered smiling. He took the bin from her hand and set it down on the floor next to her bed, getting to his feet as he did. Babcock might've been stubborn as a mule's know-it-all grandmother some days, but there were occasions when she did know what was best for her.

"Good," he said, turning to start to help her get comfortable. He positioned his arm behind her back so that she could lean on it as she lowered herself back onto the mattress. "Here we are, now…easy does it…"

With enough careful manoeuvring, between them they managed to get C.C. into a position she found most comfortable. Niles then took the opportunity to pull the covers back up around her, tucking and folding as necessary to make sure she wasn't too hot. They were strategically placed, though – she'd have them within easy reach and could pull them up if she suddenly felt too cold.

It was around this time that, out of the corner of his eye, Niles spotted and remembered C.C.'s dinner waiting for her on the tray Cameron had left. Several covered plates hid the different parts of the appetiser and the main course, but a plastic pot with a spoon indicated a yoghurt for dessert, and a glass of water and a glass of apple juice stood at the side waiting to be drunk.

"Are you going to have something to eat?" he asked, indicating to the tray with his head as he straightened up. "You've got quite a spread for a hospital on that tray over there."

C.C. looked wearily in the direction of the food. It barely took her a few seconds before she was shaking her head.

"I don't want anything to eat," she replied. "Maybe just some water, and then I wanna try to sleep a while…"

Niles felt any hopeful or optimistic expression he had previously been wearing slide from his face. His most basic instinct was to revert to "butler parent" mode and ask her if she was sure, like he might have done with one of the Sheffield children when they were younger. Because the food was probably good for her. Definitely good for keeping her alive and fighting this thing off.

But at the same time they'd just come out of one argument, he'd prevented it from becoming any longer by keeping his mouth shut, and he had absolutely no desire to start another from scratch. And Miss Babcock was a grown adult who would most definitely take offence at being treated like a child…probably more offence than he could stand to give, especially if he wanted to be able to come back and be made welcome…

Perhaps best thing to do would be to avoid the conversation entirely, bearing in mind that she might decide to change her mind at some point later. At least she would've had the water.

"Alright, then. Coming right up with that water."

He walked around to the tray and brought the glass to her, setting it down on her bedside table so that he could help her back into a half-seated position. She took a few sips, and Niles slipped the glass fully back onto the bedside table on her behalf when she was done so that it was within easy reach if she wanted it later.

Later, when he wasn't there to help her. In fact, even in a few minutes, when he wasn't there to help her. With her nausea contained, the water drunk, and with her tucked up in bed, there wasn't…wasn't any real reason for him to stay any longer.

His sudden realisation must've been etched on his face, because one of C.C.'s eyebrows slowly started to quirk.

"Something the matter, Niles?" she asked, eyes already half-closed and probably ready to dip further.

"No," he said immediately. That then felt like too big of a lie. "I-I mean…well, not really. I was just…wondering if there was anything else you needed. If not, then I suppose it will be time for me to leave."

C.C.'s eyes opened.

"Oh…I see…"

Hearing Niles actually say that he was going felt different to knowing it would be happening in the future. Right now, it all felt too similar to short notice. She didn't know why; she'd known right from the start that this was coming eventually!

Maybe it was just that she'd actually had a reasonable, not-too-bad time with him around. The days had definitely gone quicker than they would've done if she'd been on her own, that was for damn sure! And now he had to go back and she'd be back to long, boring, painful days that'd probably end up feeling like they didn't have an end in sight…

"Yeah," the butler shuffled his feet. "Of course, I'll return when I can, but…for now…"

He trailed off. There was no point in saying what he had been going to say – they both knew he'd be back when he could be. It just felt like an awfully long wait, especially when an unresolved argument lingered in the air between them, and he was already dreading all the thoughts he'd have of how unwell she'd be feeling on her own.

But neither one of them had any other choice.

"I know, I know you will," C.C. quickly said in return. She stifled a yawn right after. "Just…um…remember what I said before, okay? About keeping—"

"My trap shut," Niles finished, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "How could I possibly forget?"

C.C. threw him a brief thumbs up that barely made it off the bed. That was probably his cue to start heading out; she was exhausted, and even if he was hesitant over what these next few weeks would bring for her, that didn't mean that he got to start messing around with the steps she was taking toward recovery in the present moment. If he wanted her to be better at all by the time he next came to Chicago, he had to do what was best for her at all times.

And sometimes, that meant no hovering.

"Goodnight, Miss Babcock – see you soon."

"See ya later, Niles…" the words were half mumbled as C.C.'s eyes closed again in full, and she pulled the covers up a bit further around herself as she settled in to sleep.

Niles turned around as she did, switching off the light as he left the bedroom, and then her room entirely. He had one more stop to make at Wilson's office before he left to go back to his hostel and he was hoping it would be brief. The further down the corridor he got from C.C.'s room the more tired he felt, and it was going to be quite a journey back to New York. That wasn't even including all the questioning he'd probably be subject to from Miss Fine and Mr Sheffield the minute he walked in the door!

He'd bear it, though. Keep his trap shut, just like Miss Babcock had asked, even if it pained him to have to do it for so many reasons.

Perhaps he'd get to continue the argument with her when he came back, and convince her that a wider circle of support would be best? One could only hope. After all, having friends and family who loved you around had to sound far better than keeping company with a butler who'd been thrown your way by chance.

The thought was a bitter one – thinking of himself as just a metaphorical emotional plaster for a woman who needed and deserved so much more – but it was a true one. He could entertain her, just as he'd done these past weeks, but he very much doubted he could actually provide the emotional support she needed. And not because he didn't want to, mind you. He desperately wanted to be there for her, but he knew she wasn't likely to let him in. Not in the way he would have liked and that the situation required, at any rate.

Still, he had managed to get a foot in the metaphorical door, and he wasn't about to let go. Not when so much was riding on him getting through to her. He wasn't sure Wilson's trust in him was in any way founded or justified, but he had to try. He couldn't give up…

He held onto that smidgen of hope as he covered the distance between her room and Wilson's office, not allowing himself to succumb to the dark, brooding thoughts that had been gathering in his mind like storm clouds. He held onto it like a castaway might a lifejacket. Eventually, he found Wilson in his office, just as he'd said he would be, poring over what appeared to be a medical report.

Niles could make an educated guess that it was Miss Babcock's, but he'd never ask.

"So, tell me – was it a tearful and oh-so-emotional farewell? Do I have to break out the Lysol to kill off any remaining traces of sentimentality in the air? Or am I in the clear?" said the doctor, having briefly looked up at the sound of shuffled footsteps.

"Wilson, it's like you don't even know the woman – she has the emotional range of a tablespoon," Niles retorted, taking a seat in front of him.

"That's rich – the kettle calling the pot black!" teased Wilson, delighting in Niles' unamused expression. "But, yes, I might have overestimated our lovely, firebrand blonde friend."

"Common rookie mistake. Anyway, Doctor, you wanted to see me?" asked the butler.

Wilson leaned back in his chair, one elbow resting on the arm.

"Yes, I thought we could crack open a beer or two. Maybe watch the game and talk about women."

Niles almost considered breaking the uncomfortable silence before Wilson rolled his eyes.

"And here I was, thinking that was one of my better jokes…!" he moved forward in his seat again, gathering up the papers on his desk. "Yeah, I wanted to see you. It's about time I asked if you've made any progress in getting our sick little hermit to come out of her cave and rejoin civilisation."

Oh. The butler had wondered if he'd ask about that…he'd never imagined a doctor would ever put it in those exact words, though. Then again, this was Wilson they were talking about…

"Not…exactly," he began tentatively.

He was trying not to cringe too hard externally, remembering the last argument he and C.C. had had. Had had, and then hadn't finished or resolved at all. It probably wasn't working, if the look on Wilson's face was anything to go by.

"Not exactly? What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

One of the things Niles had – for a brief spell as a boy – looked forward to about being an adult was having very few people you needed to explain yourself to. Right at that moment, however, he felt as he'd had when he'd been told he was to be a butler and that was that; the sudden weight of having to tell and explain everything was dropped on him like a bag of bricks.

"Currently…we're at a bit of a stalemate. An impasse, if you will," he replied.

Wilson's eyebrow quirked, "So, what, you ask her to see people, she says no, rinse and repeat for the rest of the time that you've been here?"

It sounded a lot more simple than it had been in reality, but that was the gist of it. Niles had honestly hoped that he'd have something different to report, but then again, he also hadn't wanted to leave C.C. knowing that they'd left this massive, gaping hole of an unsolved problem and an unresolved argument between them. Clearly, he couldn't always get what he wanted.

He cocked his head either side minutely, before nodding.

"That is pretty much the long and short of it."

The doctor let out a breath that, when listened to closely, sounded like the word "huh". He slapped his papers back down on the desk, rolling out his chair and standing up to start pacing. One hand was on his hip and the other clutched at his face as he thought.

Freezing in place, Niles briefly considered the possibility that he was about to watch a man have a small mental breakdown in front of him. But it didn't happen. The doctor stopped suddenly, sighing, and let his hands drop back down as he leaned against the edge of his desk.

"I don't get it. I really don't get it…!" he shook his head. "In all the years I've worked in medicine, and with all the patients I've seen, I've never had one with this much of a potential support system…that they simply refuse to reach out to…!"

He looked around at Niles, clearly a man in need of some clarification.

"Has she always been like this, or did some horrible, Shakespeare-worthy betrayal occur that made her decide to exile herself and basically disown all her friends and nearly her whole family?"

Niles considered this openly, "You were more on the mark with that first thing you said. She has been like this for as long as I've known her – all fifteen years of it. But I wouldn't exactly discount family involvement, either. Or friends, or…"

He stopped just short of including himself on the list. He didn't fall under "family" or "friends", and the last thing he wanted to do was give himself his own special little category. In some ways he would deserve it, but not in any way that could accidentally be read in a positive light.

"Or anyone else, particularly," he finished instead. "Getting her to trust you, and getting her to keep that trust, has always been very difficult."

Wilson shrugged at him, shaking his head a little again, "So? At least a few of the people you listed there should be worthy of the honour, shouldn't they?"

The butler frowned. He couldn't help the growing sensation that maybe they shouldn't have been talking about all of this – at least, not in this sort of depth. But at the same time this was C.C.'s doctor, as unconventional as he was, and everything they were saying was going towards helping her get better. Wasn't it?

Wilson knowing as much as possible would give him the best possible chance of making sure she was okay. Doctors did have to understand their patients, after all, and if there had been a huge gap in his knowledge it might have been creating a problem.

And it wasn't as though C.C. "Walls of Steel" Babcock would ever offer this kind of information up willingly.

"They might've been, before now. Her parents in particular if they hadn't both let her down drastically, on…numerous occasions, to tell the truth."

He'd been searching for one particular example when he'd said that, but he'd kept coming up with too many to name and had decided to settle for something more generic instead. It didn't make much of a difference to Wilson anyway; the doctor's arms were folded and his scrutinising gaze was fixed firmly on the butler now with a kind of rapt interest.

"But what about other people? Friends, boyfriends, that sort of thing? Y'know, the people you reach out to on your own with the expectation of not being let down."

Niles shrugged awkwardly, "It's been…something of a repeating pattern, both from what I've seen and what I understand. Her friends…most of them, anyway…have all been of the same upper-class breeding as she is and make more of a fuss about it than she does…"

Wilson's eyebrows raised. It might've been of their own accord, but Niles didn't stop to address it. Even just starting to think about all of the people who could've come, but actually wouldn't lift a finger in order to make Miss Babcock feel better unless it benefitted them, was starting to make him burn under the skin more than a little.

He kept as much of a lid on it as he could, letting out a sigh to blow off the steam before continuing.

"If I'm going to put it mildly, I'll just say that they aren't the sort of people that would come running if one of their own was in trouble. Most likely because gossiping about it makes for a much better hobby," he explained, knowing full well he'd almost lost it there again at the end.

"And the boyfriends?" the doctor asked. "You didn't talk about any of the men C.C.'s had in her life."

The burning sensation underneath Niles' skin immediately turned up by a few degrees. He pursed his lips and one of his fists briefly closed up before he opened it again and let out a steadying breath. It was already making him feel angry enough having to talk about the friends who were, to this day, bad for her, let alone having to drag up the men who'd been even worse!

"Same situation as her parents, different sets of feelings. They've all let her down in their own different ways – run out on her, jilted her, decided things weren't working out," he said. "They've never stayed very long, for one reason or another. Sometimes that reason would be named in the announcements in the newspaper not long after."

Wilson made another noise that sounded like "uh-huh" under his breath.

"And it's been this way for…what, you said fifteen years?"

Niles nodded.

"Then I'm surprised she hasn't folded under the weight of her own loneliness long before now," Wilson commented.

"She hides her pain very well," the butler wished he couldn't agree, but there wasn't anything else to be said on that front. He even found himself folding his arms and staring at the carpet as he spoke. "It's something she's practised over the years that she's been working for Mr Sheffield…"

He could still remember her starting to that very day; her flouncing in through the front door. Sort of like she always did these days, but with a kind of…bounce? Eagerness to please? Either way, she'd come with it in spades…

He sighed aloud just thinking about it, "She was only twenty-one when she started. Fresh out of college and the life of an heiress, and not really knowing how the world of work actually worked. Over the years, as she learned and grew and got promoted from secretary to business associate, she just got to the point where she was keeping near enough everything to herself. Whether it was to keep up with the competition she found in older, male producers, or whether it was because of everything I just told you about, I obviously can't say for sure."

The one patch in the carpet he'd been staring at should practically have had a burn mark in it by now. He tore himself away from focusing on it and directed himself back towards Wilson.

"My personal belief is it's a combination of the two, though. Whether it's her work life or her home life being discussed, C.C. Babcock hates being seen as weak. And being hurt consistently, or made to feel vulnerable, or like she can't hold her own, are just some of the so-called weaknesses she'd prefer others didn't know about."

The room was silent after he'd finished, apart from the ticking coming from the clock on the wall. Niles blinked at Wilson, who was staring back at him without any other indication that he was going to say something, or do anything. It was almost like he thought Niles was going to continue again, but as the seconds passed by it should've been obvious that the butler was done. No one left that large a gap when talking!

"What?" he eventually asked.

"Nothing," Wilson replied, proving that he was still indeed in the world of the living. "That was some great info! Though I do think that I have to apologise for underestimating you."

"Pardon me?" Niles inquired, brows knitted together in a confused frown. "Underestimating me how?"

"Well, pal, for someone who claims to be a mild annoyance at best and one of the people she dislikes most at worse, you know a whole damn lot about how she thinks and operates," explained Wilson, a smug little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Hell, there are actual married people who wouldn't be able to describe their significant other in the same painstaking detail…"

Niles' confused frown morphed into one of annoyance.

"What on Earth are you implying?" he said, just about short of snapping.

"Me? Implying something? I don't think I––"

"Oh, please, Wilson!" Niles cut him off. "I'm not in the mood for wordplay."

"Neither am I," Wilson pointedly said. "And if you'd let me finish, you would have realised that I was downright stating something, not implying it. I have no idea what the hell it is you two have going on, but one thing that I do know is that whatever it is, it's most definitely deeper than you and she have let on."

Niles felt that burning sensation from before return tenfold. It was creeping up from under his collar and making a beeline for his cheeks this time, flushing them with an embarrassing shade of pink. He hated what that would imply, and what the doctor would probably make of it!

He didn't like at all where Wilson was going with his thinking, and his stupid little theories, either; there wasn't anything going on between him and Miss Babcock! Anybody who'd spent more than a couple of hours in their presence making smug comments and remarks would know that!

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about," he just about kept himself from openly snapping. "There isn't anything to "let on" as you so kindly put it – Miss Babcock and I are just…"

His mind would, of course, choose that moment to lock up! It was trying too hard to think about what it was that they were. Not that that meant they were something! They weren't anything. But how could he get that over to the doctor without it sounding like some dirty secret that Wilson would just love to drag out into the open?

"Co-workers," he eventually said.

Wilson looked at him like he'd just told the punchline to an amusing, if not laugh-out-loud-funny, joke.

"Awfully long pause there, just to come out with 'just co-workers'…!" he said. "Makes me wonder if there isn't a better word somewhere in that huge repertoire of yours…"

Niles' expression soured all the way into a glower, "There isn't. I've already told you exactly what Miss Babcock and I are to each other, and quite frankly—"

"But you're not being frank, are you, Niles?" Wilson cut back in loudly. "With me, or with yourself, or with anybody else. Personally, I wouldn't cross a street to go to the next building over – hell, I wouldn't go outside to go to the next office – for some 'co-worker' I didn't even like!"

He got up from leaning on the desk, starting a minute version of his pacing again.

"And yet, you're here. Halfway across the country, doing exactly what I wouldn't do over a much, much shorter distance. And it's all for someone who claims not to like you just as much as you don't like her. Now, that either makes you a saint, or it means something else is going on."

He ended his pacing directly in front of the butler.

"So, maybe, you should have a think about it and get back to me. I definitely know I wouldn't go around claiming to be a saint; I hear the Vatican has a tendency to frown upon that kind of thing."

Stunned, Niles stood there gaping at the doctor. He didn't know what to think. He didn't know what had happened – what on Earth could he possibly say to all of that? Where did he even begin?!

"Wilson, I—"

"Have a plane to catch and much to think about," Wilson said, cutting him off. "I, on the other hand, have a date with some cheap takeout and a dollar-store beer before I start my night rounds. So what do you say if we both get a move on and promise to continue this sparkling conversation the next time we see each other?"

Niles knew how to take a hint – their talk was over. Which was just as well, because he honestly had no idea how to respond to Wilson's words. He might have been an unconventional asshole of a doctor, but the man was disturbingly perceptive. Niles still wouldn't say he was right, but he needed to think.

Long and hard, it seemed.

Because, as it so happened (and to his growing horror), Wilson might have had a bit of a point.

Bloody hell…

"Alright then," Niles rasped, just about managing (or at least hoping) to save face in front of the oncologist. "I will see you in two weeks, Dr Wilson."

Niles offered his hand to the doctor, who gladly took it and shook it with enthusiasm.

"I'll be counting down the days," replied the oncologist with a pat on the butler's back.

The pat sent him on his way, getting him moving like you might get a horse to start walking. Niles wasn't sure he would've done it by himself otherwise; even as he turned and left Wilson's office, it didn't feel like he was that much in control of his legs.

Was his mind that preoccupied by this? What the hell had the doctor done in there to make so much come tumbling down? What did he do with it all now that somebody had…had pointed it all out?

He didn't know. He didn't know how to feel about any of what Wilson had just said to him!

He especially didn't know how to feel as he turned down the corridor towards the reception and passed the point where he would normally turn off for Miss Babcock's room…all his body did was tense up for a moment.

He stared down that way into the silence, imagining that she was fast asleep in her bed, not at all aware of the talk he'd just had with her doctor.

Had Wilson been having these same conversations with her, at some point? Did she…have as much to think about as he did, in her own time…?

He doubted one but not the other. She'd always known her own mind, when it came right down to it, even if he himself tended to get all over the place when thinking of Big Important Things.

Huge, massive, life changing things…

He could feel the colour draining from his face, and he continued on his way. He tried thinking – just for now, he told himself – only of the steps he had to take to get out of the clinic. That didn't require any effort. He couldn't possibly lose sleep over directions!

But with every step he took, everything he had to think about came flooding back in. Invading his brain and poking at him until he paid it attention.

Had that been what he'd been doing to Miss Babcock that whole time – poking her until she paid attention…?

The thought made him stop so hard he nearly tripped right there in the reception area. Fortunately that also meant people were around to ask if he was okay, and he could dismiss their worries and dismiss the thought with distraction at the same time.

Bidding them all goodnight and with his stomach turning itself over in its anxiousness, he walked out the door for the last time in two weeks. Two weeks. Fourteen days. The more he thought about it, the more the time hadn't actually seemed that long at all…

He fumbled for his car keys in his pocket as he got close, and he switched the radio on as soon as he got back in and turned the key in the ignition. He needed something safe that could keep him occupied. He might've had a lot to think about, but he didn't want to do it while driving – that was just asking for trouble.

Something dark tried to creep out and tease him that his actual thoughts and…and other things…towards Miss Babcock were what was asking for trouble. But he beat it back with a stick he kept in his mind for things he didn't want to think about.

He had a gut feeling he'd been using it a lot more than he'd imagined before now…

Turning the car around in the parking lot, he took one last look at the New Eden clinic in his interior mirror as he made his way back down the drive and headed for the road.

Something buried deep in his chest started to hurt just looking at it, perhaps wondering why he couldn't have gotten more time to figure it all out while still staying where he'd already been. Where Miss Babcock needed him to be…

He had no answer for that. He just turned the music up louder as he drove away, promising himself that he'd answer every question he could think of on the subject by the time he could return and help to take care of her again.