Chapter 19
"Adsum"
Ten minutes.
That's how long it had taken her to cross the Hudson river. Ten minutes.
To C.C., those mere ten minutes had been an eternity – an abyss of time that now represented the threshold of a new life. In a way, C.C. felt like a stray soul that had somehow bargained her way out of the Underworld and was now crossing the river Styx, back to the World of the Living. There was suffering mixed in with what could only be described as utter joy, and for quite some time, C.C. couldn't bring herself to move.
When she finally took her first steps back onto solid New York ground, she thought she might've wept.
Her home city...it hadn't changed at all...all the sights and the sounds were exactly the same, and all the people in it...
It was almost like wandering into a dream, immediately after escaping a nightmare, even if her journey was far from over. She had yet to make her way to Lennox Hill Hospital.
"You can do it, Babcock," encouraged a voice she thought had left her, back when she'd left Thomas' house. "You survived all those months, you can survive a few more minutes and a few more steps that my grandmother could run, let alone walk!"
Everything really was going to go back to the way it was...and if she'd be running into the real face of a certain butler any time soon, she had to be prepared.
She began trudging through the snow again, exhausted still but with a refreshed sense of purpose.
Home wasn't far, and she had zingers for company.
"Did your grandma have to run when you and your family were busy escaping Pompeii?"
She swore that she almost heard the voice chuckle at that one. Just before he naturally fired back, of course.
"Oh, look! An American knows where a place outside of America is! Though I'm honestly not sure that I should expect too much – at one point it was probably a target of conquest for yourself and the other Huns."
With every zinger that was shot between the two, C.C. walked a little more. She was frozen down to the marrow of her bones, she was sore from walking and hunger and exhausted from the lack of sleep. But she couldn't help smiling, still.
She was back home, and as long as she kept moving, she was sure she'd stay there...
She wasn't going to risk Thomas having decided to drive from New Jersey, so she kept as much of a low profile as she could. There were a few more cars around the streets, despite the weather, but she avoided them – who knew who they belonged to? She could barely see what was right in front of her face, let alone make out who was behind the wheel!
And all the while, the butler's voice praised her for surviving.
"You really are the woman I thought you were," it told her. "Only the real C.C. Babcock would possibly be so stubborn and strong headed as to go out into the middle of a blizzard, not knowing if she'd live, but doing it and making it anyway!"
C.C. tried a smirk, but it made her mouth hurt - her lips were cracking from the cold.
Instead, she thought back her smugness and took another few steps.
"The 'real' me? When was I ever a fake me?"
The voice pretended to think before answering, "Well, there was that one time when I thought that maybe your species had come to collect you and hear what you'd learned about Earth, so they had replaced you with a mechanical version..."
C.C. laughed. But even through the funny side, she knew she had to get to the hospital. That zinger hadn't been exactly good, and if the zingers were getting clunkier, that meant she wasn't thinking as straight as before...
It didn't take a genius to pick up on what was going on – she was out and about in a ferocious blizzard wearing nothing but a jacket and flimsy PJ's (both completely drenched) and she had little to no body fat to maintain a decent body temperature.
Hypothermia was starting to set in – now the clock was really ticking. She had to step up her pace, no matter how difficult or painful it might be. Otherwise, she was done for.
Back when she'd been a young girl, her family would always spend the holidays either skiing in Aspen, or at some exotic beach in a paradisiac location. More often than not, however, they'd favour Aspen over any beach which was, in C.C.'s humble opinion, a blessing.
She'd rather spend her holidays skiing and then relaxing in the hot tub than frying under the sun. She'd never seemed to tan – the best she'd ever managed was that one time when she'd been seventeen and her skin had turned a faint shade of beige instead of the usual lobster-coloured mess. Besides, she and Noel had had (actually, still had) a little bet on who could kick the other's butt more times while skiing. They'd race one another constantly and C.C. had made quite a bit of money on the steepest and highest slopes.
One time, however, one of their races had taken a rather unfortunate turn and Noel had crashed into a tree and broken his leg in three places, something which had required medical attention. C.C. remembered she'd been the one who had to go for help, something she'd done efficiently and quickly. The doctor and her parents had congratulated her on her quick thinking before the former had proceeded to tell them about everything that could potentially happen to them if they ever found themselves in a similar situation. Among the parade of gory injuries and ailments, hypothermia had been mentioned. The doctor had described the different stages and how the person suffering from it would slowly lose their life. He'd explained that hypothermia made thinking and moving increasingly difficult and that the body would slow down as the temperature dropped until, eventually, it would give up.
She knew that there were three stages of hypothermia – moderate, mild and then severe. She was well into the first one and, most probably, on the second stage's doorstep. It wouldn't be long until keeping a level head had become a challenge, so she had to do everything in her power to get to Lennox Hill before any of that happened.
She had an hour-long walk ahead, which was not a whole lot of time considering the cold was already taking its toll on her, but she'd be damned before giving up. She hadn't come this far to fall at the final hurdle.
She wouldn't let the cold win. She wouldn't let that bastard Thomas win, either. She'd see herself live as long as every breath of it meant that she could spite him...
Spite him, and be free of him.
Knowing that, however, didn't necessary make walking any easier, but it did give her a little added something extra every time it came to putting the next foot in from of the other.
The voice was back as well, loud and clear over the biting cold of the howling winds whistling around her and forcing her to pull her good arm in tighter around her body.
"Hang in there, Babcock," it told her each time, including the time that the wind nearly knocked her backwards. "We're getting a little nearer every time...! Not much farther now!"
She knew she had to keep listening to the encouragement, and not give up the minute a step looked difficult. Slow and steady steps were better than none. She usually lived for the high-adrenaline life and the rush of work to be completed instantly, but today...
Today, she was just happy that there was progress at all.
She just needed a little more time. That wasn't something that she often thought to herself – usually she prided herself on being so prompt and punctual about everything and everywhere that she needed to be...
She used to turn up at the mansion practically on the dot of nine every day for work. Part of her tried to imagine the looks on the Sheffield's and Nanny Fine's faces if she turned up at their door that night (night? Early morning? It was hard to tell anymore), probably blue from the cold and letting all the snow in behind her...
The thought died in her head almost as soon as she'd got it in her mind. She had to keep focusing on getting where she'd already decided - and knew, really - that she had to go. She couldn't let herself spoil or complicate things by having to stop and change her direction.
Doing that could be the difference between surviving and freezing to death in the street.
Now that she'd gotten out of that nightmare hellhole that Thomas had been keeping her in, she certainly knew which she'd prefer. She'd take death over being in Thomas' home any day…
"Now, now, Babcock, no one needs to die here," the voice interjected in an almost chastising manner, "One foot in front of the other, that's all you need to do right now."
C.C. huffed – even in the shape of an imaginary voice he could be one annoying snarky bastard.
"Oh, you know you love me!" teased the voice; C.C. could almost feel the butler nudging her in the ribs. She didn't dignify his (her own mind's?) joke with a reply, but deep down she knew that, yes, she'd be damned, but she loved the man. He was a perennial pain in the butt, but he was her perennial pain in the butt.
"Aw, I am flattered, Babs!" said the voice, obviously aware of what she'd been thinking – there was no escaping from her own mind in her own mind, after all.
Still, the knowledge that the voice was not really Niles did not prevent C.C. from turning bright red in the face.
It was the closest she'd come to chuckling in so long, it almost hurt that she was too cold to fully manage it.
The weather was taking over again in that regard, reminding her that she couldn't slack off or she could lose herself completely.
"You'll have plenty of chances to go off as you please when there's no chance of becoming an icicle," the voice agreed. She could almost see Niles nodding sagely at the advice she was sure he'd give if he was really there. It might've partially been to make her laugh as well. "So, you'd better keep on hurrying your way – the hospital can't be far, now!"
The hospital was to be her final destination; the place where she could declare herself found at last, and get the medical attention she so desperately needed.
She could contact her friends and loved ones from there, and that thought nearly made her weep.
"Don't, Babs, you'll melt!"
C.C. smiled to herself – asshole.
"But one that you've missed very much!"
Yes, yes she had. At one point in her life, the thought of missing Niles would have made her laugh, but not today. She wanted to see him again, talk to him. Maybe not pick up where they'd left off (she didn't think she was ready for that), but certainly go back to having fun together.
During her first few days in captivity she'd blamed the butler for what had happened to her – she'd believed him guilty of having pushed her into Thomas' trap, but now she knew better. Knowing Thomas as she did, she was certain that he would have found a way to take her, sooner or later. Her fight with Niles had unluckily made it easier for him, but it wasn't Niles fault.
It would never be.
He'd tried to find her, in any case. He'd pointed the police in the right direction, and for that she was incredibly thankful. Even if his efforts had not resulted in her being found, she still considered them one of the biggest shows of kindness she'd ever experienced.
Funny. That was something she'd have never thought, a year ago. Not even if it had been the truth. She'd have found some way of getting around it, even if that meant immediately distracting herself with something else so that the thought didn't even enter her head.
But now, she couldn't imagine denying it. Along with just how much she'd missed the butler.
And from all the efforts he'd clearly made to find her, it was obvious that he'd missed her, too. How much, she couldn't be sure, though.
"There's only one way to find that out," the voice said.
That was more than a hint as to what it was getting at. She'd nearly stopped because she was so caught up in thinking...
The cold was nearly making her entirely numb at this point. The voice had more than a point about keeping moving. So, she trudged on, in spite of the biting cold lacing around her every bone, seeping deep into her very soul. She could barely see ahead, as it was, but remaining where she was, wasn't an option.
Her throbbing wrist needed seeing to, and she absolutely had to get out of the cold before it was too late.
Snow crunched under her feet with every step she gave; it reminded her of happy winter mornings spent with her family, back when her parents had still been together. It reminded her of the endless snowball fights she and Noel would have right after opening their countless Christmas gifts, or how they'd spend hours on end building snowmen or making snow angels in the backyard. And then, after they'd gotten worn out from playing outside, they'd stumble back in, where Nanny Bobo would be waiting with steaming cups of hot cocoa.
Hers always had whipped cream and five marshmallows in.
It was bliss, remembering happy times while facing what felt like she'd had the wrath of winter unleashed on her, and it was her memories what pushed her forward.
She could have all of it back, if she only kept going.
Still, C.C. was all too well aware of the cold – it was becoming unbearable, and moving her feet was becoming a painfully difficult task. Part of her knew this was a consequence of hypothermia, but it didn't mean it was any less worrying.
And as she continued to move, reality became…rarefied.
She didn't really notice when her feet stopped feeling cold. Or her hands. She was too busy thinking about those family winter mornings, back when she'd been a child.
Back before she knew that any of this was going to happen.
And, before she knew it, Nanny Bobo was right in front of her eyes! Larger than life, just as she'd always been, beaming and carrying a tray.
The tray had cups of cocoa on it. And C.C. just knew that one of them would have whipped cream and five marshmallows, just like it had always done...
C.C. blinked hard, and in a flash the vision was gone again. She knew it couldn't have been right – the woman looked like she hadn't aged a day, when she'd have to at least be middle-to-late nursing home age by this point!
Still, she had to keep walking. Only this time she let her good hand hang down by her side, and she drifted along the street without even feeling the crunch of the deep snow beneath Thomas' stolen boots.
She wasn't really sure what had happened, but it didn't feel unbearable anymore.
It was almost…well…almost as if it wasn't there.
The streets, sounds, colours – everything around her, really, seemed to blur and fuse into one massive, indistinct smudge in the background. It was as if she were walking down a very long and very dark tunnel, but there was no glowing white light at the end. She supposed it was fitting – she'd felt as if she'd been in the darkness for months now.
She was moving on autopilot, making turns here and there, not really paying attention to what she was doing or where she was going. She only became vaguely aware of having arrived at Central Park when she bumped into its closed gates. She didn't really mind – she merely turned to her right, determined to skirt around the edge of the park.
She brushed her good hand along the park's fence as she went, oblivious to the coldness of the metal. Where was it that she was going? She couldn't quite remember…
Still, she continued moving forward, mainly out of a deep sense of needing to continue going.
Maybe…maybe she was trying to get to her apartment? She didn't have the key on her…she couldn't remember where she'd left it.
The night doorman would be on. He could probably let her in, if she knocked loudly enough...
She could have a proper look around for that key, as well. If she just...got her jacket off...
The heavy material came away easily, slipping a weight off her shoulders that she could then carry with better ease. She'd rifle through the pockets if she remembered, and then she'd get back home.
Yeah. She could do that. It just didn't feel like it was what she was supposed to be doing...
Why didn't it feel like it was what she was supposed to be doing...?
"That's because you're not going to your apartment, remember?" said...said a voice? "You are going to the hospital, Babs."
...Hospital?
Had she really been heading there instead of going straight to her penthouse - her little bolthole that protected her from everyone and everything in the world?
The voice really strongly seemed to think so, "You need medical attention, Babcock, and you're not going to get it by stumbling around, looking for keys!"
Medical attention? Did she really need that? She didn't feel like she did… she was okay, wasn't she?
"No, you are not!" insisted the voice, "You have a broken wrist, you are in the middle of a storm and you are both underweight and undernourished! You need to get to the hospital!"
C.C. frowned and looked down at her body – was she really underweight? She hadn't noticed…
It didn't show, either. Maybe if she removed her pyjamas she'd be able to see better…
"NO!" the voice screamed, startling C.C. just as her fingers closed around the pyjama pants' elastic band. "You cannot afford to do that – you are running away, Babs, remember? Thomas Jones, your assistant, he kidnapped you! You are running away from him…"
Run...running away...? Was that what she'd been doing before...?
That...sounded... right...
More than right...
The pants' elastic band snapped back against her skin with the realisation.
Oh, God! She really had been running away! From the man who'd kidnapped her!
Kidnapped, and beaten, and starved, and...and...
The wail that C.C. let out, and the sobbing that followed, would've echoed all the way down the street, had the blizzard not drowned it all out.
But the awful weather, as numb to the cold as it had made her, couldn't take away the pain that was spreading inside. Thomas had kept her like a toy for eight months and the memories were flooding back in before she could do anything to stop them.
The first time he'd beaten her, leaving black and blue bruises and a silent promise that that time wouldn't be the last...
Any number of the times that he'd sat there and eaten in front of her, while she was left to starve...
The first time he'd...oh, God, the first time he'd forced her down and-
"Babs!" the voice shouted over the wind and her thoughts. It sounded like two warm, strong, protective hands should be cupping her face as it did. "You need to focus! Yes, those things happened! But you're not there anymore! You're out here - you've escaped, and you have to survive!"
C.C. shook her head no, falling to her knees. She…she couldn't go on. She didn't have the strength. Not when it had been taken away by an awful, awful bastard – a bastard who'd broken her beyond repair. If anything, the only thing she felt she could do was curl up in a tight little ball and quietly drift into oblivion.
It would be a lonely and sad way to go, but it would be painless. Having known nothing but pain for the past eight months, that sounded like a blessing. She could let go and go to sleep, at long last.
She was tired. So very, very tired…
"Chastity-Claire Babcock get up right this instant!"
For the second time in just a few short minutes C.C. was startled by the power and clear anger dripping from the voice's words – she'd never heard it so angry before. Come to think of it, she'd never even seen the real Niles this angry before!
"You bet your life you never saw the real me like this!" the voice snapped. "But if he were here, he'd be saying the same thing I am telling you right now!"
C.C. sniffed, and wiped at her eyes before the tears could freeze on her cheeks. She knew the voice was right - whether he was just in her head or if he was there in person, Niles would be telling her to get up.
He'd be telling her that she was better than this.
"I could have told you that myself," the voice said. It was gentler this time, but still as firm and with every inclination of becoming ordering if she fell down again. "Listen to me, here and now. You are not broken. You never were. The rat bastard only wanted you to think that to make things easier on him! Are you going to keep on making things easy for him?"
The very thought repulsed C.C. more than words could say.
"N-No..."
"Then get up on your feet and get to that hospital! You survived eight months and you escaped this far, Babs; don't let it all go to waste!"
The voice, again, was right. What was she doing? Why the hell was she taking this almost sitting down?!
She'd gone out there to try and live in the first place, not to just give up and die in the street!
Slowly, and steadily, without letting herself collapse back to the ground, she got back to her feet again. She stumbled the first few steps, but soon she was rushing down the street, forcing herself to put one foot in front of the other as quickly as humanly possible.
Street signs whizzed past her as she went, the numbers increasing with vertiginous speed. Or so it felt to her – she wasn't aware of this, but she wasn't moving very fast. Regardless, she kept moving, fighting the howling wind blowing against her and the brutal cold cutting through her tired and overworked body.
She was determined to get home – she had to get home, or die trying.
"You are just ten blocks away, Babs, keep going!" the voice said encouragingly as C.C. stumbled down the intersection of 5th Avenue and 69th Street. "It's just one last little effort."
C.C. gnashed her teeth – she was so very close…
So close to safety. To her family. To her friends. She had to keep going! She had to force herself to keep going, even if her body was dangerously close to shutting down. Her heartbeat, even after having run at least fifteen blocks, was that of a sleeping slug, her temperature had dipped well under 84 degrees and both her respiratory rate and blood pressure had drastically decreased.
She was on a race against time, and it was catching up with her.
But the hospital was in sight. She'd just seen the sign for it, and she knew that now amount of snow or bleary eyesight would let her mistake it...!
She was close. So very close. And so very tired...but she wasn't going to give into it...
Not yet. Not until she'd...she'd seen...
She dropped to the ground the minute she got to the obviously-locked-against-the-weather door, knocking as hard as she could.
It wasn't that hard.
Knock. Knock-knock.
Someone had to be there - a hospital couldn't just close because of a couple of flakes of snow! The receptionists, and overnight doctors and nurses had to be in there...!
Somebody had to hear her. They couldn't just...
She had to knock harder. She'd fought her way there, survived eight months of hell, and she wasn't about to give up and let them not find her now!
Using up the last of her strength, she pounded - as hard as she could - one last time on the door.
That was the blow that knocked all her energy out, and she knew there was nothing more she could do.
Was this it? That was all she could ask herself as her eyes started to close. Was she supposed to get this far, for it all to come to nothing...?
Was she supposed to never see Niles again?
Maybe...maybe if she tried hard enough, she could imagine him. Maybe that was what she was supposed to do, and he'd take her away from the pain...
But as she started to voluntarily close her eyes, a light appeared that she hadn't seen before - a stronger, more Earthly light than the one she had been prepared to walk towards.
It was a door opening. A hospital door.
And in an instant there were hands. Warm, soft hands...lifting her? She was being dragged inside...
They settled her...she was on the floor...and they were starting to undress her...
She was almost too tired to feel the usual fear; the part of her mind that could be terrified it was Thomas having shut down already, but it would have been able to relax soon enough anyway.
She caught a proper glimpse of the stranger. It was a woman...in a...white coat...a doctor...
And she was screaming for somebody else.
"Hannah! Hannah, get your ass over here immediately!"
Another, faint set of footsteps hurried over, and C.C. saw the brunette nurse...gaping?
"W-wha-what happened?!" the woman cried. "Did she get here walking?!"
"Yes, she did!" the woman doctor replied. "She is suffering from hypothermia! Go get me all the blankets you can lay your hands on! Then bring me a gurney and Dr Jacobs!"
The brunette woman was gone again in an instant, but C.C. thought she left some kind of trail in the air behind her...like the squiggles of a heatwave...
Was this a side effect of that hypothermia...?
She faintly felt the doctor check for a pulse, but it was becoming difficult to stay awake. She'd closed her eyes, and only managed to open them again when the doctor asked her a question.
"Who did this to you?"
C.C. tried to speak - tried to tell her everything, but while the words sort of formed in her mind and in her heart, they couldn't make their way up her throat and out.
She...she needed a minute...they'd be stronger in a minute...
The doctor was obviously desperate though, and tried again.
"Who are you, Miss? Do you know where you are?"
After another laboured breath, C.C. made a push to answer one question.
She had to tell them. She had to tell the whole world that she was there...
"B...Babcock. I...C.C. Babcock..."
"Your name is C.C. Babcock?" the doctor repeated.
They knew. She'd done it.
And...she wanted to tell more...
"Y-yes...I was k-kidnapped...twenty third of May..."
Her eyes were getting heavy. She needed to sleep...so very badly...
"Miss Babcock, please, open your eyes!"
But she couldn't listen to the doctor. She was too exhausted; too exhausted even to ask where they were taking her when they were lifting her up on a...a stretcher? Putting blankets over her?
She could sleep now. And they could call Niles...
She had to tell them, so they knew. Then when she woke up, he could come and visit, and it would all be alright...
"Call Niles...I...wanna...Niles..."
Not that the doctor seemed to understand. Her voice sounded...confused...
"Who is this person?" It got worse when C.C. didn't answer. "Miss Babcock, speak to me!"
She...wanted more information? C.C. must've taken it for granted, knowing Niles when other people didn't...
So, she mumbled an explanation, "Niles...Sheffield butler...I...need him...call Niles...I need Niles..."
With that said, the man himself suddenly appeared in her mind's eye, and he was the last thing she saw before the whole world and everything in it faded to black.