Chapter 14

It was just after half past nine, the radio DJ had just enthusiastically announced through the stereo of the rental car. He had no idea that Niles couldn't give so much as a toss about what the time was. He was just relieved to finally be pulling up at the New Eden Clinic after one of the most exhausting and stressful nights of his life.

Even if he hadn't had some of the wind taken out of him by the whole business with Maxwell, he'd still have been tired even by the time he'd left for the airport. It'd been just after midnight when he'd finally managed to zip up his case and go, taking an hour after that to even so much as set foot in a terminal. He'd had late nights before, of course, but none of them had ever included hurrying across half of New York and almost begging an airport employee for a last-minute ticket on the next available flight to Chicago!

And that side of things had almost been the better of them! At least he'd had something to focus on when he'd been making sure he could even get there. By the time he'd gotten sat, ticket in hand, in front of the board that would eventually display his flight, he'd had nothing left to think about. Apart from what he would find when he eventually arrived and spoke with Dr Wilson.

He ended up waiting in that seat for four hours. Four hours that were filled with dread, and panic, and going over every possibility that the doctor had apparently been loath to talk about over the phone. Even if he had had time to take a nap, he wouldn't have been able to – it was all expanding too much. It felt like a balloon swelling up in his brain, making it uncomfortable to even try to think.

Respite had come briefly at five o'clock, when his flight had finally been called and he could busy himself with boarding. Then it had been another two and a half hours of distractedly watching out of the window and fighting to keep the thoughts at bay and failing miserably.

Getting to the other end at least had presented another opportunity to think about something else. Finding his luggage, for one, and renting the car he was currently sat in, for another. That had all happened at around eight in the morning – a time he'd usually already be awake by. He'd bypassed sleep entirely to make sure he made it on time. And he had.

And now, he was actually going to hear the…the actual, real reason Wilson had told him to come.

He knew for definite it couldn't have been good, but just how bad was it? What was so awful that Wilson wouldn't tell him over the phone what'd been said? Did…did he even want to know…?

He all but shook that last question out of his head. Of course he wanted to know! It was ridiculous to even think about not knowing – he couldn't come all this way in order to help Miss Babcock, only to back out and be a stupid little coward at the last moment!

She wasn't being a coward about this, and she had it far worse than he did. He could stand to hear whatever time was Wilson had to say without it physically hurting. Besides, if he knew, it might stop all the horrible thoughts and possibilities buzzing around in his head. Finally give him a chance at clearing his mind out, and maybe worry a little less.

Only a little less, but every little bit helped.

He slowed to pull into the parking lot, spotting Noel Babcock's maroon Mercedes from about a mile away. He should've figured that Wilson would call Miss Babcock's brother, too; why wouldn't he? They were both her support system right now. She needed them equally. Well, perhaps she needed her brother more than she needed some butler who'd been less of a help and more of a hindrance than Noel in the past, but she needed as many people around her as she could get.

Even if she was only allowing two, and one not entirely of her own free will…

Noel had actually left a rather generous amount of room alongside his own car, so Niles took advantage of it to park. The rental car looked feeble alongside the thing, but it had gotten him there just the same, so he had very little reason to complain.

There were far better – more pressing – things to be focusing on right now, anyway.

With a sigh, Niles turned off the ignition and raised the hand break. There was a part of him that wished he could stay in there indefinitely – delay the inevitable, as it were – but he knew better. He had a responsibility to Miss Babcock. One he was determined to do good by.

The path into the clinic was almost muscle memory at this point, so he found himself at the front desk in practically no time at all. He still had to show ID (an admittedly annoying formality both he and Wilson privately agreed should be done away with) and put the stupid little "visitor" lanyard on, but he was soon on his way to Wilson's office. It was located on the second floor and as he approached it he spotted the oncologist and Noel through the glass-panelled walls. They were deep in conversation, by the look of things, and that somehow made Niles want to run away all the more.

To his credit, though, he kept on going until he'd reached and knocked on the door.

"Come on in!" Wilson called from inside.

"Morning Wilson, Dr Babcock..." Niles said with a small wave as he gingerly slipped into the room.

"Ah, the man of the hour is finally here!" Wilson exclaimed, clapping his hands together minutely before gesturing at the empty chair next to Noel's. "Please, do sit down so we can get you up to speed."

Niles felt a wave of uneasiness washing over him – man of the hour? Now what on Earth was Wilson on about? Niles was well aware he was a smart man, but after knowing the oncologist for a while now, he'd come to fear what he'd dubbed Wilson's "evil genius moments" in their conversations. Especially because it often made him feel no better than a mindless minion that had no choice other than to go with the deranged flow.

"You flatter me, Wilson," replied the butler, taking a seat. "Might I know why?"

"Because you're one last hope at the eleventh hour," Wilson replied succinctly.

If he'd been any more casual about it, he would've probably slung his feet up on the table. It wasn't exactly the image of a serious talk that Niles had had in mind, at any rate. And it definitely didn't fit what he'd just said! "One last hope at the eleventh hour" – what did that mean here? Obviously Niles knew what it meant when it all went together, but…but…

"Why am I?" he asked, stiffening in his chair.

Wilson looked like he was trying to quickly pass a thought like a memo through the bureaucracy of his brain, but it kept getting tangled in red tape.

"Remember those, um…worrying thoughts I told you about? The ones C.C. had expressed to me previously?"

Niles stiffened a little more, his gut hardening and his throat tightening, "Yes…"

"They are deeply troubling. Borderline noteworthy in a file I haven't yet started and hope to God I don't have to," the doctor said, eyes falling briefly to his desk. "C.C. essentially expressed to me that her tiredness has gotten to a point where she no longer wants to live."

Niles' muscles all tensed so hard, and his heart started pounding so hard in his chest, he thought he'd shatter from the inside-out.

It would've been better in his mind, almost, if he had.

She…Miss Babcock couldn't really be considering…it? Could she? She couldn't give up now! They'd all come so far to help her and she'd come so far along in her treatment! And Wilson had told him it was working – he'd told her it was working!

Was she really thinking of letting the cancer win just because the treatment wasn't going exactly as planned? Nothing went exactly as planned! If everything went as planned all of the time, then she'd be fit and healthy and back in New York, where he'd be…

Oh, who cared about all of that?! She couldn't give up with her treatment, or with life; it didn't make any sense!

"We need you to intervene," Noel piped up, bringing Niles out of his panicked trail of thought.

"Intervene?!" the butler cried out, anxious trail immediately diverting onto the road of full-blown distress. "How?! With all due respect, Dr Babcock, but what more could I possibly do than her own family and physician? I'm just…well…"

Wilson had barely let him trail off before his expression had hardened.

"Just what?" he asked sharply, waiting for Niles to look at him again before throwing out another. "You've never actually given an answer about that, Niles, so come on; what is it that you actually are?"

Whatever Niles had been about to say – if anything at all – it had packed its bags and left long before the rest of his brain had caught up. He could only stare blankly back at Wilson, heart pounding underneath his rib cage and mind fast-forwarding itself in an effort to say something clever.

"Uh…"

"Don't 'uhh' me – you know the answer's in there somewhere!," Wilson snapped irritably. You're not stupid, even if the way you sound right now could've fooled anybody!"

Niles immediately closed his mouth. He didn't know why, but he thought that might help. Did it actually help? Almost definitely not. It certainly didn't make Wilson any less pissed off than he already was.

"You're not just some low-level white noise playing in the background of her life, so don't go bullshitting me pretending that you are," the doctor said. "Heck, you're not even mid-range white noise – you're a full-blown television set and you're turned to her favourite channel! She's gonna listen to you if she's gonna listen to anybody!"

In as much of his mind as was actually listening to Wilson rather than running around in a blind panic, Niles thought that was categorically untrue. There had to be dozens of people Miss Babcock would sooner listen to than him! It wouldn't even take much effort to prove, either; he could probably just make a big list of the ones he thought and have her confirm or deny them verbally!

Trying to explain this to Wilson and Noel, however? That was a far greater challenge.

He tried saying it out loud first, given that it was the easiest method, "Now, Doctor Wilson, I really don't think that you've got the right—"

"I've got exactly the right person, Niles," Wilson interrupted, one admonishing wag of his forefinger punctuating the word. "You're our secret weapon in this, whether you like it or not, and it's high time you were actually deployed!"

If anybody had ever referred to Niles as a "secret weapon" before now, he thought he would've laughed in their faces. As things currently stood, he was too anxious to laugh and Wilson didn't look even close to finished for him to think about arguing.

"We can't wait any longer – you have to go in there now," the doctor continued. "She's running out of time fast, and if you care about her at all, then—"

"Of course I care!"

The words burst out of his mouth before he could stop them, filling up the now completely silent room until it almost felt stifling in there. Or…or at least, it was starting to feel rather stifling under his shirt collar…

Wilson was getting a strange kind of pleased look over his face. Niles didn't dare look at Noel.

"Well, then you know what to do, don't you?" Wilson asked, leaning back in his chair. Again, the possibility of him resting his feet on his desk didn't seem too far-fetched. "Go to her room and lay it all out for her as only you know how!"

Niles wasn't entirely sure he knew what this "how" was that the doctor was talking about. This…this all made it sound like he had the most crucial job of all, and that he knew it instinctively, when how could he possibly?! He wasn't a relative, or a friend – as he'd thought before, he wasn't even one of her favourite people!

"Please, Niles," Noel's voice cut through the silent air of his hesitation. "I may be C.C.'s brother but, quite frankly, you know her better than me – better than anyone, really! You've spent fifteen years working together and you've seen her for every day of them!"

"But how does that make me better for it than you?" Niles asked, feeling insensitive even as he did but not seeing any other choice. "You are her big brother! You two grew up together, thick as thieves, how could I possibly compete?"

Noel stuck the butler with a look that spoke volumes of the pain he was in. Of the tiredness and fear that had burdened him since C.C.'s initial diagnosis.

"Niles, I don't know how much you know about our family, but we...well...to put it in layman's terms, suck at feelings," Noel said. "C.C. and I are close, that is true, but we don't make it a habit of sharing what burdens us with each other. We live completely separate and different lives, for the most part, and only get to see or talk to one another a few times a month, if we are lucky. There so much I don't know about her – so much of her life in New York and as an adult woman that I am not privy to."

"Well, but that's to be expected, isn't it?" Niles insisted, desperation and fear still clinging to him. "That's what happens when one grows up. You drift apart."

"That's exactly right," the professor said. "And that's why––"

"But that doesn't mean you've become strangers! Or that you don't know her enough to make her see reason!" Niles cut him off.

"It does, to some extent," Noel replied, sounding more defeated and exhausted than Niles ever remembered seeing him. "I knew the girl she was. The angsty and rebellious teenager that I'd help sneak out of the house and into frat parties when I was in college. But at some point, we both grew up. She became a woman and I a man. We built our lives and careers and, at some point, chunks of who we are as people became a mystery."

Noel took a moment to remove his now foggy glasses and wipe at his tearful eyes.

"I knew what made her tick and how to get a rise out of her when we were young, but things have changed. For every joke and zinger I could come up with, I'm sure you could dish out ten more. Not only that – I'm certain that you know exactly what buttons to push to make her jump. You've spent more time around my sister in this last decade and a half than I. Seeing her was a daily occurrence. And despite all the love I have for her, I'm certain you understand her much better than I do. I could never compete."

Niles felt an urge to scream out in his frustration. Frustration at the situation Miss Babcock was in, frustration at the position Noel and Wilson were trying to put him in, and frustration at himself for not being able to be as helpful as they thought he could be. But, considering the delicate situation, Niles limited himself to taking a deep breath and briefly closing his eyes and he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Alright, for argument's sake let's assume that I do know her better than you do," he replied, opening his eyes to look at Noel. "It still doesn't change a thing. I might know how to annoy her six ways to Sunday, but that doesn't mean she'll take my advice over her own brother's!"

Noel smiled sadly.

"It's remarkable," he said, shaking his head. "You and my sister are extremely alike – completely blind to what's right in front of you, my friend."

Niles felt himself bristle, "And what on Earth does that mean?!"

"It means that, just like you know Babcock better than everyone and feel comfortable enough to be as candid as you feel like with her, so does she," Wilson cut in. "It means that you are the one person she knows for a fact will spit things out as they are. Without fear or restraint."

"And that's exactly what we need right now," Noel said. "We need her to be faced with the fact that she can't keep going like this anymore. We need her to know we aren't sugar-coating it. We need her to see that she's reached the end of the road, and there is no one better for her to take it from than you."

Niles' eyes darted back and forth between the two men. A thought – well, a feeling…an urge, if you will – came over him quite suddenly to ask them both if they were feeling alright. To check that they weren't losing it out of stress. But he held it back; he didn't want to be impolite and he knew exactly where they were coming from. It was a little town called "Desperation" and currently its deputy mayors were stood in front of him.

Not that their situation meant that they understood where exactly it was that he stood in Miss Babcock's own everyday life! They were vastly overestimating his importance in her day-to-day if they thought that he'd be the one to convince her to change her mind. To sway her with some sort of opinion that neither doctor nor professor had ever seen her laugh at out loud, back at the mansion. Upsetting though it was, he could see her doing it all again, too, upon being told by him that perhaps staying alive was actually a good thing…

It all seemed hopeless even thinking about it. But if Noel and Wilson were now being forced to come to him, of all people, then what other choice did they have than for him to at least give it a try? They had to have exhausted all their other options, if he was the next one on the list, so perhaps he should think of it at least partially as a favour to them?

Miss Babcock would never know that there was any sort of favour about it, of course. She already held him in low enough esteem; if she'd set the bar any lower the demons of Hell would be using it in limbo dancing competitions!

He wasn't there to try and fail in the first place, of course. He knew he could do it and do it properly. Or he could try, at the very least. He had to try as hard as anybody else had to make it work, and if it did work then everything would be wonderful again.

If it didn't work…then, well…at least he would have already confirmed what he'd really known to himself. That he'd been right this whole time, despite their insistences. That there was nothing some stupid butler who listens at doors could do to prevent powerful producer C.C. Babcock from doing exactly what she wanted in her life. Or…or not life, as the case might have been.

No one would be able to fault him for trying, though. Even if worst did come to the absolute worst.

"Alright," he said, eventually relenting out loud. "I'll talk to her. It goes completely against my better judgement, but I'll do it."

How could he not take it when it was Miss Babcock they were talking about, and who was in danger of losing everything? That alone should've been enough, right from the start!

"Alright," he said. "I'll talk to her."

"Fucking finally!" Wilson exclaimed, throwing up his hands in mock celebration. "And if it doesn't work, you'll get the added bonus of being proven right and being able to rub it in our faces – mine especially – how wrong we were."

In any other circumstances, Niles would have agreed that proving Wilson wrong and being able to gloat about it was something to look forward to, but presently it felt...well...like it wasn't worth the risk. He knew that pushing Miss Babcock into doing something she absolutely didn't want to could mean the end of his biweekly visits – it wouldn't be out of character for her to kick him to the curb and shut him out if she felt he was overstepping. Still, he was also aware that he'd been backed into a corner; how could he say no when so much depended on this last ditch attempt?

"Nothing to say about that? I thought you'd be jumping for joy at the prospect," Wilson said in response to Niles' brooding silence, lazily ushering him out. "But if that isn't the case, then you'd better hurry along – there's a princess of sorts to save, Sir Niles."

"Fine, fine – I'm going," grumbled the butler, shaking his head and turning to the door. "Christ, how are you a real doctor..."

"I bet most of my professors, patients and co-workers wonder the same thing! And yet I have my own white robe and shiny stethoscope! Oh, and look, I've also got a name plate on my desk! Who would have ever imagined!"

Niles ignored the doctor's smug teasing as he hurried out of Wilson's office and into the hallway. The urge to flip the bird at the asshole briefly crossed his mind, but he pulled himself together – for better or for worse, this was still a hospital and Wilson was still Miss Babcock's doctor. God only knew why, but such was life, wasn't it?

So he kept on walking, covering the short distance between the office and Miss Babcock's room in a few short moments. Perhaps too few, the butler thought to himself as he knocked on the door, but as Wilson had said, they didn't have the luxury of time. Not anymore.

He didn't wait for Miss Babcock's reply before pushing the door open – he knew that if she'd had an infusion the day before, then she'd most likely be in bed and her voice, weak as it was, was unlikely to carry all the way from the bedroom to the door. He was proven right the moment he stepped into the room – she was nowhere to be seen around the living room area, and a quick check into her bedroom placed her in her bed, curled up under huge, fluffy blankets.

She had her back to the door, Niles noticed.

"Go away, whoever you are," she practically growled from what Niles could only describe as an adult version of a pillow fort.

"I wonder how many of your dates have used that line on you," Niles shot back.

Her reaction was both instantaneous and, to a certain extent, somewhat comical. Had she been stronger and feeling better, Niles was sure she'd have jumped out of bed, but the best she could presently manage was a sort of little bounce before she turned to look at him.

"What the fu––Niles?!" she cried out in her surprise. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"Oh, you know, I was just passing by and I figured that I might as well drop by to ask you what the hell is wrong with you!" Niles snapped back.

His snarl came like an unexpected slap in the face to C.C..

She winced at the words, both astonished and confused. What the hell was going on? Where had all of this come from?! Was it only Weekend Niles who was nice to her and Weekday Niles got to storm in out of the blue and act like a raving lunatic? Why?! What'd happened to make him do a complete one-eighty on her like that?

Why the heck was he even there in the first place?!

"Me…?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" she countered angrily. "Seriously, what the fuck is the matter with you, barging in here? What the hell is going on?! You're not even supposed to be here!"

Niles huffed out a deep, bull-like snort.

"Right! It isn't a weekend so obviously the armed guards on the door shouldn't have let me in!" he said sarcastically, coming forward into the room. "I'm here because I was lucky enough to – very late last night – receive a phone call to come from a certain doctor."

C.C. didn't need three guesses, or really even one guess because she knew damn well who that meant when he said that! The dull ache of irritation spread through her chest, tightening in her lungs, and forcing a groan up her throat.

"Wilson…! I can't ever tell that rat bastard anything! What's he been telling you?"

Niles pulled a nonchalant expression, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Nothing much. Nothing that would probably be of interest to you," he replied casually, before his expression darkened. "Other than the fact that you want to stop your treatment! Have you gone completely insane, woman?!"

C.C. bristled, the prickling giving way to a burning underneath her skin.

It only got hotter the more she thought about Wilson and what he'd done. How dare he go around telling everybody – anybody – about any of this without at least running it by her first! He'd probably call it "reaching out" or some bullshit like that, but what did it matter what he called it? It was a violation of her privacy – and it probably wasn't the only one time he'd done it, either! If Niles knew, did that mean Noel knew as well?

She would've safely bet all the money she had that he did. But she was going to put an end to it all, right then and there!

"No!" she shouted back. It wasn't loud, but she felt she'd made her point. "And it's none of your goddamn business what I decide to do! You're not the one stuck in here, being pumped full of chemicals like some sort of weird science experiment while people around you promise it'll help, only to end up in worse pain than if no one was doing anything at all!"

She ran out of breath saying that, and she took a moment for her lungs to stop hurting before carrying on.

"It's torture, Niles. It's horrible…you don't get how horrible it is until it's you…"

Niles' mouth formed a hard line, "I understand that. And I'd never claim to know what it is you're feeling right now. But tell me – is throwing away the one chance you've got at living through it all, simply because it hurts right now, going to make things any better?"

C.C. opened her mouth to speak. Then she thought about what he was actually saying and hesitated.

"I…I, um…"

She stopped on a question she had been in too much pain to even consider before. Why would it actually make things better? It…it didn't seem like it could, from any kind of way that she looked at it! The only way out of it if she didn't finish the treatment was dying, and that wasn't better than anything at all!

But would the pain of it make her give up and die anyway? She often felt like it could…was it possible that she'd just die no matter what she did? Only one way involved horrendous pain and a false promise of a cure, while the other meant going out on her own terms and not hurting half as much?

"I don't know," she eventually replied. It came out quieter than intended. "I just…I can't deal with the pain anymore, Niles!"

"Of course not. Not by yourself!" Niles told her. "But do you know what might just do the trick? Reaching out to the people who care about you and having people here with you to help you through it!"

Something in C.C. cured like cement. A harder, even angrier resistance came over her, and she turned a dirty look up at him.

"Why are you and Wilson so goddamned insistent on that?! I know myself better than either of you! And I don't need—"

"Yes you fucking do!"

The butler shouted back so loud, the sound reverberated and rang off the walls. It nearly forced C.C. backwards with the strength of it.

Niles swallowed, as though trying not to lose his nerve.

"You're only three months into a treatment that's supposed to last for over a year! A year! And that's only at an estimate – it could go on for far longer! You've barely even begun to start and you want to quit already, and yet you're adamant about staying alone!"

C.C. thought yes, that was absolutely the plan. And the butler-shaped asshole in front of her was ruining it by trying to bring an audience along for the ride!

The butler continued before she could answer.

"Can you imagine how it's going to feel further down the line, if you're still like this and still alone?" he asked. "Do you think it will feel good? That it will make you feel better, being by yourself? Because you're just so safe when it's just you, and you're one hundred per cent sure that no one would want to come and help anyway?"

The answer never came at all that time. A hand flew out of his pockets and the forefinger and thumb pinched hard at his forehead briefly, sliding down to the bridge of his nose, where they perched while he sighed in irritation.

He let his hand fall away again when he was ready, "Do you honestly, truly believe that you can do this on your own? It isn't a crime…or…or a weakness to need help once in a while! If you unsaddled yourself from that incredibly well-trained high horse you've got there, you might actually see that! And then you might notice that, down here on the ground, you're surrounded by people who'll want to help!"

Pictures of the people C.C. knew he meant flashed in front of her eyes – almost like a sneak preview of what she knew would come if she did decide to ditch the treatment plan. Not one of the pictures was good; each and every single one was from a time she'd been left, let down, humiliated, or made to cry. Sometimes all of them at once.

The resentment in her grew stronger. Why should she want anybody there who'd ever made her feel that way? What could they possibly do, other than make her feel even worse, either by pitying her after they'd humiliated her or by letting her down one last time?

She supposed it counted as gallows humour that she thought the ones who let her down one last time should be her coffin-bearers. But while she was still in the world of the living, she supposed she should focus on what she wanted while she was in it.

"They don't want to help me, and I wouldn't want them here even if they did," she muttered bitterly.

The butler's mouth fell open for a moment.

"Are you quite finished being delusional?! Of course they'd want to be here! The first thing that should tell you that is that I'm here! Textbook evidence for the fact that others would come as well! Mr Sheffield, for a start! He'd charter his own private jet to come be here if he knew what was really going on, and if you think even for a second that he wouldn't, then you really know nothing about the man you've been pining over for the past decade! Or Miss Fine, who'd drop anything to make sure any one of us was alright! Even your own parents, Miss Babcock! Do you really not think or know that your own mother and father would come from anywhere the moment they'd heard you were sick?!"

He paused to catch his breath for a moment, and C.C. spotted an opening to tell him that no, they wouldn't. They'd never done it before, so why the hell would they start now?

The opening closed as soon as she opened her mouth. Niles threw up one warning finger.

"No! I don't care! Whatever it is you have to say, I don't want to hear it! And to round everything off I don't care if you don't want to see them, either! We're beyond that now – you need them, whether you like it or not!"

He lowered his finger, silence swelling like the helium in a balloon but with none of the fun.

"It's over, Miss Babcock," he said. "Either you pick someone to reach out to – the Sheffields, your parents, I don't care – or I'll do it for you! And I couldn't give a shit if it means you don't want to see me again because I forced you to actually see people! I'm only concerned about you sticking around long enough to be able to do the seeing! I might not be there to see you make it to shore, but I refuse to let you slip under unnoticed!"

"Why does it matter so much to you if I do?!" C.C. countered too quickly for him to stop her this time. "Why do you refuse, Niles? What the hell do you keep on coming back to help me fo—"

"Because I care about you!" the butler screamed back. "God forbid that someone on this planet does!"

He stopped a moment, again catching his breath back. His face was getting redder by the second, but he didn't seem to give much of a damn about that.

"I care about you. I care about your life, and about you making it through this thing! As do most – if not all – the people that know and love you! And if you can't understand that, then I'm sorry but you really are even more stubborn and stupid than I ever thought you could possibly be!"

The last word left his mouth and the sound left the world, creating a void behind it. They stared at one another, neither one speaking and the tension between them pressing down hard enough to turn the room into one massive diamond.

Apparently it was wrong of her not to say something in that moment, because Niles eventually scoffed and turned away.

"But I don't really know what I was expecting! Cancer or not, you're as impossible as you've always been!"

He had nearly taken an entire step away when the panic rose up in C.C.'s body like a tidal wave.

"Niles, wait!"

She couldn't let him go. She didn't know why, but the thought of him turning around and not coming back because he'd finally had enough of her was enough to make her want to vomit. To break down.

To give up and admit defeat.

"Please!"

Niles didn't take another step. He halted right where he was, not turning around but also not going anywhere. That must've meant he was listening, right? To hear what she had to say before he decided what he was going to do?

"Stay…please. I-I want you to stay," the painfully tight feeling in her middle coiled up even more. "Can you just…can we sit and talk about this…?"

For one horrible, lingering moment, she thought the answer would be a silent "no". That she'd wasted all of her chances and she wasn't going to get another one. But, slowly, the butler's shoulders seemed to drop and relax. He didn't move any further towards the door. Instead, he turned back and headed for the chair nearest her bedside. It was the same spot Wilson had been in before.

Niles seated himself in it, leaning back, one leg resting over his knee. He had an air about him that suggested he was listening but it was conditional: whatever she had to say should be good.

"Well?" he asked.

"I just need time, Niles," she said – practically pleaded. "Time to think about—"

"You don't have that luxury, Babcock. You've had time to think – three bloody months!" he snapped. "We've all given you more than enough room to make up your mind and warm up to the idea."

"Well, I haven't!" she argued back. "I…I can't stand the idea!"

"The idea of what?!"

"Of being abandoned!" she cried out, tears beginning to run down her sunken cheeks. "Because that's what will happen, won't it? They'll come and pretend to care for a while, but then they'll just…leave…like they always do whenever I'm stupid enough to open up to somebody. And I'll end up alone, as usual. Humiliated by the consistent rejection of everyone around me!"

She paused and tiredly wiped at the tears trailing down her cheeks. She couldn't have looked any more miserable if she'd tried.

"And that's the best case scenario," she continued. "Most likely they'll just feel sorry for me. They'll send cards, maybe call once or twice, and that will be that. They'll forget about me except when they are gossiping about how close the Bitch of Broadway is to fucking dying!"

She took a few gulps of air, chest heaving with the strength of her crying, sticking Niles – who hadn't moved or attempted to speak – with a dirty, hateful look.

"So forgive me for wanting to spare myself the pain of being reminded just how little I matter – just how much of a fuck up my life has been that I've got no one…"

C.C. looked away from him, curling up in her bed under the covers and letting the tears fall. She knew she had said too much – far too much – but what else could she have done? It wasn't like she could hide her pitiful fears anymore, with the butler (and most likely her brother) having made the executive decision of telling the world about her illness, whether she liked it or not.

She could hear Niles getting up from the chair and walking away – probably on his way out. He clearly had nothing to add to what she'd said. Mostly because she suspected he knew it was true and didn't know how (or even want) to make it better. But to her surprise the steps seemed to get closer to her, and soon she could feel the mattress dipping as he came to perch on the side of her bed.

A hand laid itself on her upper back, too.

"You've got me," he said, gently.

She didn't say anything to that. Then again, he shouldn't have really expected her to be satisfied with something so…simple? Inadequate? It wasn't exactly life changing to say that he was there for her…

"But I also think you need to give yourself a little more credit," he continued, taking his hand off her back. "For all that, um…"

He searched around for the right words. He'd wanted to say "weeping and wailing", but suddenly that seemed rather judgemental. Like he thought she was being overdramatic and blowing everything out of proportion. Which in some ways she might have been, but he wouldn't get anywhere with her if he told her that now.

"Talk of being unimportant, your presence has certainly been missed in the Sheffield house. It isn't the same without you there – it's all in disarray, for one thing!"

He nearly considered chuckling that last part; just thinking about Maxwell up to his eyeballs in paperwork that Miss Babcock would've had done in an afternoon. But that kind of chat would probably only make her upset, or stressed over what she wasn't helping to do.

"You're very much not as expendable as you think you are, is what I'm saying," he said instead. It was best to get to the point. "And I'm sure you'd be able to see that for yourself, if you let someone know…several people, maybe…so that they could be here and be close to you."

It was quite a vain hope, waiting to see if she'd reply. Of course that wouldn't be enough to get her past her fears either, would it?

"Even if you find out that some of them aren't as…reliable as you would like them to be, there's still a lot of them who will be. What do you have to lose over reaching out? You're here by yourself anyway…"

Going over that last point in his head made him cringe and crease up inside. That really had come out wrong – he needed to make up for that one, and he needed to do it fast. Before she turned around and purposefully made herself alone by telling him to leave!

"Most of the time, anyway," he added. It felt like a patch job of a conversation, but it was better than letting it break down entirely. "If worst comes to the worst, and some people aren't there for you, then what happens? You'll have been right all along and you can do whatever you want with that information."

He hoped she wouldn't take that last part too broadly. He was trying to talk her out of…of doing something drastic, not giving her permission to go ahead if they didn't find the right support group!

"But what if things go the other way and you do find people who care and who want to be there for you?" he moved it on quickly. "I'm more than certain that they're out there – just like I was. And they can be here, just like I am. So why not just give it a try and let them speak for themselves?"

The room stayed quiet, and the lumpy patch of covers didn't move. Niles frowned deeply, the thought of her being so upset and afraid by all of this cutting through him like knives. He'd have given anything to be able to make it all go away in an instant – to make her better so that she could walk away from the hospital and go right on back to the life that she missed, or…or at least to bring everyone to her instantly so that she could see that she wasn't alone…

Both of those were impossible. Even something that was possible, like…like hugging her…wasn't even actually…come to think of it, why was he even thinking of hugging her in the first place? He knew she needed the comfort, but what kind of a leap was it to take to that?

He could keep that thought, as well as his arms, to himself. There were boundaries, after all!

Getting so caught up in his panic almost led him to miss the moment the covers started to shift. His worry was gone as soon as he noticed, though, and replaced by a feeling like his heart slowly crawling up his throat so it could take a look and see what was going on.

Miss Babcock's head slowly poked out of the covers. It was soon followed by the rest of her tear-stained face.

"You know, Niles…" she paused to sniff. "You've…um…I mean…we've hated one another for fifteen years now…and yet now you're here, fighting for me. O-Or not fighting for me, but…fighting to make sure I get better again. And I just wanna say that I really don't understand any of it! Or anything about you – especially not these days!"

Niles smiled for what it felt like the first time in ages.

"Neither do I, really," he said, surprised by his own candidness. "Who would have ever imagined, right?"

To his delight, she offered him a weak, half-smile in return (but it was a smile nonetheless, he told himself!).

"Not me, that's for sure. This has to be a sign that the end times are coming," she said and sighed. "Just like me agreeing with…well…what you just said."

It took Niles' brain a few extra seconds to catch up to what she was saying, but when it did, he could feel a wave of relief washing over his still tense body. She'd given in, at long last – she was going to reach out.

"Now that really is a worrying omen," he gently teased back. "I would have thought it would be a cold day in Hell before you ever admitted that I'm right about literally anything."

"Then it must be fucking freezing down there!" she said before a warning finger poked out from underneath the covers. "But don't get too cocky – it's just the one time, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, Babcock," the butler replied, smirking.

"Good – I don't want any of this going to your ugly head. I'll have enough of that when Wilson finds out he's gotten his way, that bastard…"

They shared laugh over that, but Niles (being the Babcock connoisseur he was) understood what she was getting at – she was asking him, in that roundabout way of hers, to help her deal with the fallout of her decision. She might have just agreed to take a leap of faith, but that didn't mean she was going to openly admit how scared and overwhelmed that was making her feel.

"Shall I break the news to our doctor friend?" he asked.

"Break the news, pop the champagne – whatever floats your boat, Brillo Pad," she said. "But before you scurry off, care to help me to the phone? I've got a few calls to make, as it is."

That was exactly what he'd wanted to hear, right from the start! And Niles was more than happy to help make it happen.

He was relieved that he could make it happen.

"Absolutely," he said, standing up to help her pull back the covers properly. "At least the time difference will mean that your relatives are indoors, not out – Transylvania's only eight hours ahead so it's still daylight there right now…"

If she'd wanted to hit him in full, she'd been close enough that she could have. That was why Niles knew that the small swat she took at him was a joking one, and all in good fun. That and she didn't try again, when the first one didn't seem to do much.

He then helped her to sit up, her back resting against her pillows, while he went and fetched the phone for her. She took it into her lap, picked up the receiver, and was about to dial the number for the outside line when she paused and looked up at him again all of a sudden.

"Do you mind? I know you're New York's biggest yenta, but you're not extending that title to Illinois today!"

She flicked her free hand quickly in his direction, motioning for him to get out. That was when Niles remembered himself and, nodding and mouthing an apology in her direction as she started to dial, left the spot where he'd been stood and sped up to head (as quietly as he could) for the door.

He went through into the other room and closed the door behind him. Miss Babcock was right. She was going to need – and was obviously entitled to – as much privacy as she could get. This would be hard enough for her; it didn't need him apparently turning it into a spectator sport.

Besides, as soon as he got out the next door he'd be off to tell Wilson. They could both have a quiet celebration. Perhaps not popping champagne, like Miss Babcock had said, but definitely something that marked the occasion.

And it was an occasion, whatever came of the calls she was making. It marked an improvement in her mindset – a willingness to help herself get better, no matter what that meant.

She might not have been better yet, and nobody could say for sure if…if she would get better for good…but this was a promising step forward. With more friends and loved ones on her side to help support her, they could take the next one along.

And altogether, that had to mean her getting better, with brighter and happier days to come.