Chapter 21

He slammed the phone down hard in his urgency, but he was already so dizzy and weak from reeling from the news that he thought it might topple over – and he could very well go with it!

He didn't know anyone on Earth who could blame him – Detective Lane had just called, declaring that Miss Babcock had been found!

Found. Alive. Not well, but alive. He had thought (and said on the phone) that he could live with that – more than live with that! All he had cared about was the fact that she was alive and that she had been taken to a hospital!

A hospital, where he could get on his way and visit – right that instant!

That was when Lane told him that she wasn't just in any ward, with other patients waiting to receive visits from friends and family (not that he'd count in Miss Babcock's mind as either). They'd transferred her directly to the ICU, and she was receiving treatment from there.

And the more they got into talking, the more that knowledge wouldn't let him rest over what the producer was being treated for.

She had to be hurt. How badly had she been hurt? Were there wounds, or bruises? Was she sick, perhaps?! She could have caught more than a chill! How had they found her on such a dreadful night (he hadn't asked, he'd been too thrilled that it'd happened to ask how)?! Had she gone there herself or had someone dumped her outside and gone?!

Had the person who'd done that been arrested yet?!

Was Miss Babcock going to be alright?!

He needed to get over there. He needed to see her for himself, to either confirm everything or to put his mind at ease. Luckily for him, the Sheffield mansion was only a few blocks away from Lennox Hill – he only needed to get dressed, grab his wallet and car keys, and get going.

He didn't even think about waking the Sheffields or calling Miss Babcock's parents as he tossed on the first shirt and pair of trousers he found in his closet. His every thought was on C.C., and about what he would find the moment he walked into her room. Part of him was expecting her to scream at him; demand that he go and call him names. He would deserve it (even if Stewart thought otherwise) if that was the case. He just wanted to see her with his own two eyes – make sure that she truly was back, if you will.

Then, he would leave, if that was what Miss Babcock wanted. He'd apologise to her, and then he would go.

He stuck his feet into his loafers, pocketed his wallet and car keys and rushed downstairs, straight to Mr Sheffield's Volvo. He stepped on the gas the moment the engine was on, and hurtled down the street, towards the hospital. He couldn't care less about respecting the speed limit, he'd pay for a speeding ticket, if it came down to that. He had to get to Miss Babcock, as fast as humanly possible.

Luckily for him (and probably because the weather was so wretched) he found a parking spot almost in front of the hospital, and he was soon stumbling his way to the hospital's entrance, not even caring to lock the car. Nothing else mattered but getting to Miss Babcock, not even ensuring the safety of a car that cost more than what he earned in two years.

He didn't stop at the reception desk to ask for directions – no, he ran all the way to the ICU, following the signs as he went. Lane had given him the number of Miss Babcock's hospital room, so the moment he finally arrived at the unit, he made a beeline for room 205. Lane was at the door, too, waiting for him – she looked like she had not slept a wink.

He didn't blame her for that. She'd probably been here the moment the hospital called for her, and that could've been any time during the night for all he knew.

"It really didn't take you long at all," she called out to him as he got close.

Niles shook his head, still walking forward eagerly, "I came as fast as I could. Where is–"

Lane was in front of him and halting him in his tracks before he could even so much as look up at the room door. Niles couldn't help but feel a little bit put out by that – she'd called him there to see Miss Babcock, hadn't she?

Or was something wrong? The look on Lane's face suggested there was, and that sent his heart into his throat...

"I have to warn you, seeing her is not gonna be easy," she said seriously. "She's in...more than a bad shape."

More than a bad shape? Niles had been expecting and imagining injuries, each more horrible than the last and all of them inflicted painfully, but what could Lane possibly mean by " more than a bad shape"?!

How bad was it?! Was he on the verge of being too late?!

"I need to get in there," he said quickly, trying to step around the detective.

Lane registered his growing panic and pursed her lips, stopping him again, "You will. But don't get too close or make any sudden movements. She was...beaten and abused, extensively, and...well, it's made her averse to contact."

The words beaten and abused felt like twin bricks being hurled at him, slamming into him over and over again as they repeated in his head. He wished they were real bricks, so someone could beat him to death for what he'd done.

He'd done this to her...he'd gotten her beaten, and caused her pain, without having to do more than lift a finger and say a few words!

But there was something else lingering in Lane's words, too – almost as though she was trying to avoid telling him...

His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he thought about it, "What do you mean, "extensively"?"

Lane let out a breath through her nose, running a hand through her hair in a distressed fashion. Again, it looked like she was trying to avoid telling him...

That just made the butler impatient, "Lane…"

"She was...raped, Niles," the detective admitted at last. "She was beaten, starved, and regularly raped."

Raped...

That was when his misery stopped cold, and started to heat up. And it heated, until his blood was boiling in his veins. Someone – some cold, calculating, evil bastard of a person – had forced himself on her! Beat her, starved her, and...and...

Niles couldn't even think it! He was barely on the verge of thinking straight at all! He'd kill whoever had done this – he didn't care if he got life or sentenced to death by firing squad, he knew that he would end the life of the scum who had hurt Miss Babcock that way! They'd deserve all the pain he'd cause them before the end, too. He wouldn't let them go quickly or quietly, and there would be more pain there than they had ever imagined in their lives!

All he needed was for Lane to confirm what he suspected. Then he would go out looking, and he wouldn't come back until there was blood on his hands.

"Who did it?" he asked Lane, shaking with rage and stepping forward all the time. "Was it that Jones?! I'll kill him right now! Where is he?! Have you or your department got him yet?! Did he do this or are you––"

"Niles, calm yourself!" Lane warned, standing her ground and not moving an inch. "You're not here about that. You're not going to kill anybody. You're here to see Miss Babcock, aren't you? No matter what that entails?"

They stared at each other in a kind of tense stand-off; Lane clearly but silently urging him to think it through, Niles wanting nothing more than for her to give up the information so he could go kill this man himself.

He stood there, nearly hyperventilating in front of her. He wanted to scream at her for stopping him. The pig he wanted to butcher deserved everything that was coming to him and more – couldn't she see that?! Didn't she want him to get his comeuppance, and for there to be justice for Miss Babcock?!

"Just breathe," Lane said quietly. "And think it through. My men are out there looking for him now. You don't have to get involved in that. But you do have to be involved here."

The longer he waited, the more Niles was forced to think through what Lane was saying. Her men were already out there, getting ready to arrest the scumbag. He couldn't go and interfere with that, as much as in an ideal world he would like to swoop in and beat the man in front of them...

And she was...right. He wasn't there, at that hospital, for revenge. Not even if it would be sweet, and just, and could potentially end the life of a terrible person (if he deserved to be called a person). He'd come there, dressed so speedily that he'd put on two mismatched socks and hadn't told anybody he was going, and none of it was so he could find and kill the bastard, no matter how much he deserved it and no matter how much he would still like to.

He'd done it because he wanted to see Miss Babcock.

No matter what it entailed.

He sighed then, the anger still burning away inside but not so openly and fiercely now, and he stepped down and away from Lane, "I'm...sorry."

The detective nodded in understanding, and gently patted him on the arm, before turning and showing him through the door into Miss Babcock's room.

Niles felt his insides clench and tie into knots as he went through the door. And when he saw Miss Babcock sleeping in the room's lone hospital bed, he thought he could weep.

There she was, thin from the starvation Lane had told him about, covered almost entirely by blankets to shield her from the cold her pale skin gave away that she'd been exposed to, the only part of her uncovered apart from her head being a clearly broken wrist, held securely within a cast...

Niles felt his stomach give a churn, and the anger was coming back again. How could it not, when all he could think was that that had been something the bastard had done to her? Just another infliction he'd caused on the list of things Miss Babcock had had to suffer, at the hands of a man who should be dead...

Would be dead, as soon as Niles found him.

"Niles, breathe," Lane insisted in a whisper, having noticed Niles' breathing had suddenly stopped the moment his eyes had found Miss Babcock. "After what she went through at Jones' hands, she needs peace and quiet. Support. You can do that for her, can't you?"

Niles didn't think he could answer. He almost couldn't believe he'd been right – right all along about that…that monster – and he hadn't done anything at all to stop him! It really had been Thomas all along and he hadn't gotten off his stupid, pathetic behind to actually go and do something to prove the bastard guilty! He could've done it – he knew he could! He could've seen that she'd been saved so much sooner than this and that evil son of a bitch would've been rotting behind bars, where he belonged!

Or dead. If Niles had gotten there first…

But would he have been, really? One nagging part of his raging mind was holding back, one hand apparently sternly clinging to rational thought. Would you really have been able to do anything? And if you had been able to do more than squat about Thomas, would you really have been able to take a life like that?

The butler felt his fist close up. He didn't know the answer for sure but he felt like he would've given it the best fucking go in his life if he'd had the chance!

A chance that had never come along, because he'd been nothing but useless, and because the monster who'd committed the crime had been allowed to get away with it.

It was done. It was over. He wouldn't get the chance again, and that ripped him apart from the inside.

All that was left to do was what Lane had said – to support Miss Babcock now that she had returned.

And he knew he had to say yes and finally answer the question he'd been posed, even if – deep inside – he didn't feel like he could be of use to Miss Babcock in any shape or form after what he'd done to her.

The irony sickened him. The one time doing nothing would've meant everything turning out fine, and he'd fucked it up royally! Had he closed his stupid, useless mouth, she would have never left the hospital that day, and she wouldn't have been taken and subjected to...to...

Niles couldn't even bring himself to say the words in his head.

All he knew, was that she was hurt beyond measure, and it was, in part, thanks to him.

"I...I don't know," he eventually rasped, both hands now clenched tight. His nails were digging into the palms of his hands. "But I'll try. For her."

That was just what Lane wanted to hear, so very gently he wrapped an arm around Niles' shoulders and helped him to the chair next to C.C.'s bed. He hadn't said it, but Niles needed to sit down. The shock of seeing Miss Babcock like this was difficult to bear. She knew so from experience. Add Niles anger at it being jones.

"Listen," she said sternly, using the no-nonsense voice she usually reserved for interrogations or for chastising her own children. "She's gone through hell, Niles – the last thing she needs is you bailing on her because you'd much rather be fighting Jones. Your place is here, with her. Let us deal wi—"

Lane's phone going off like an annoyed rattlesnake interrupted the detective mid-sentence, making both butler and detective jump. They both couldn't help glancing over at where Miss Babcock slept, seemingly (and thankfully) undisturbed by the shrill ring of the mobile phone. The last thing they wanted was for her to be woken up when she clearly needed rest.

If anything, she shifted in the bed a little, releasing a faint moan as she did so.

The sedative was clearly doing its job.

And Lane, she quickly reminded herself, had to do hers.

In mere seconds, the detective scooped the little contraption out of her pocket, flipped it open and spoke — barked — into it.

"Lane," she said, trying to keep her voice down for Miss Babcock's sake. "Ah, Jeffords! Has the bastard been booked in already?"

There was a small pause then, during which Lane listened intently to what her best lieutenant was telling her. Niles would have given anything to listen in on what they were saying (if he got wind of were Thomas was being kept, he'd be there in a jiffy), but Lane conveniently gave a few steps away from him.

Actually, she straight-up left the room, her tired face having screwed up into the deepest, most worried-looking frown Niles had seen on her since he'd first met her.

Something clearly wasn't right.

Niles barely noticed when his body sprung out of the chair and dashed behind Lane; it was moving on autopilot, as it often did when it was in a stressful situation. He caught up with her just in time to hear the end of the rushed conversation.

"...I'm on my way — make sure no one touches anything until I get there," the detective said as she rushed to the exit, Niles in tow. "I want all units to be alerted of this, did you hear me, Jeffords?!"

There was another short pause while Jeffords clearly replied that it would be done (Niles couldn't imagine anybody on her team disagreeing and living to hear about it), before Lane got the chance to speak again.

"Good. We'll have a ton of evidence in there," another short pause. But not because of something Jeffords said – that time it was because Lane had to give a sigh and a frustrated groan? "Pity we don't have the bastard to complete the set."

Niles felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dropped over him. He even started to shake, to accompany it.

So, they hadn't managed to snag the scumbag after all! Lane's reassurances that they'd find him hadn't actually come true whatsoever!

What were they supposed to do now?! The bastard could be anywhere! He could be anywhere and he was probably already thinking up his next move as to how to snatch Miss Babcock again!

Not that he wouldn't have to go through Niles first. And the butler knew that he'd sooner be dead on the ground than let Thomas win. That scumbag had already thought he'd won before, it wasn't going to happen again.

And Niles was determined to prove it. He walked the last little distance to where Lane had paced over to (and was busy hanging up her phone), ready to demand to know what was going to happen, and ready to kill Thomas the moment that "something" successfully came to pass.

He was also ready to essentially become Lane's shadow until something was done and the bastard had been caught.

Well, half of him was. The other half was ready to stay at Miss Babcock's side until either she or the Lord God Almighty ordered him to leave. Doctors and nurses, the police – hell, he could be threatened with being thrown into a pit of lions and he'd refuse to budge an inch!

That was the kind of resolve he intended to have on hand as he spoke up to the detective.

"What's going to happen?" he asked quickly. Time was wasting and the scumbag could be anywhere. "I know they couldn't find him, but what happens now?!"

Lane was probably not surprised by his reaction, which would explain why she didn't take a step back, even if other people might have done. She was used to other people's anger.

And she knew that any threats made were not threats made against her.

"We're going to search Thomas' house," she instead explained as calmly as she could. "We think there will be more than enough evidence there to convict him. It's just a...pity...that we haven't got him to wrap this all up in a neat little bow!"

The word "pity" had practically been spat, but it had been necessary because she didn't want to launch into the tirade she could have had instead. She was on the brink of punching a wall, too. As much as she had dealt with other cases that had made her angry before, this one was different. It felt different, in her heart and in her gut. She'd never hated a suspect as much as she hated Thomas. The bastard had danced around them as though he were some sort if taunting court jester, doing everything he was to keep himself entertained.

And all at the expense of their investigation, and the happiness and safety of one innocent woman.

Well, not anymore. The woman he'd tried to keep from them forever was a mere room away, now. She'd gotten out, made her way (heroically, Lane thought) to somewhere that she could be helped, and now, it was his turn to scramble for his life.

Not that they were going to let him escape. He was going to know, better than anyone Lane had ever arrested, warned, or even come into contact with in this profession, that at the end of the day, there was only going to be one person locked up in a cell.

And it wasn't going to be C.C. Babcock.

It was going to be the most glorious feeling, when she got to look Thomas Jones, kidnapper, rapist and all-around arrogant asshole, in the eyes and then tell the sergeant behind him to lead him away by his cuffs...

But they had to find him, first. They couldn't come so close, only for the final piece of the puzzle to slip away!

For C.C.'s own peace of mind, as well as their own and their jobs, they had to do everything they could.

"Now," Lane said, pointing over her shoulder, "you go back to that room and stay with her. Call her family. Tell them she's home. okay?"

Niles wanted to say no – he did not wish to go back into the room, he wanted to go after Thomas; hunt him down until he could get his hands on the bastard and beat the living shit out of him. But again, he knew that that wasn't possible (for the time being). His place was next to Miss Babcock until she told him otherwise, and if that meant stepping aside to let Lane and her men do their work, he would do so.

"Okay," huffed the butler, "I'll see to her now. But Lane, promise me one thing..."

"Anything, Niles," replied the police officer.

He nearly hesitated when he thought of what he wanted to ask, but he managed to get it out before the weight of everything crushed him entirely.

"When...when you're done checking the...place where it happened, take me with you," he told her, his eyes now on hers and holding steady. "If I don't see it, my imagination will drive me insane..."

It was already doing that, to some extent. He couldn't help but have flashes of the worst pictures his mind had ever come up with, every time he thought about that house. Each and every single one was worse than the last, too. They made him want to break down and weep, or kill Thomas, or both. And even if he knew he'd want the bastard dead no matter what, he didn't want to have to think about the...acts...anymore.

Lane felt her heart turn heavy at his request. She knew exactly what he was talking about – after years of seeing so many crime scenes, she'd seen the worst of what humanity could offer. But civilians didn't have to. They weren't allowed to, and that was complicated in itself...

But she also knew not knowing left room for nightmarish fantasy to creep in. He'd be left tortured with wondering, and he wouldn't even be able to help himself. The pictures would come up uninvited – like the real pictures did for her, sometimes.

She did hesitate before she gave her answer.

"Well...it's breaking every rule in the book...but I'm going to make an exception," she said. "I think you need to see it."

Niles felt like he could burst into tears (out of relief that his frustration would be quelled, as well as fear for what he'd actually see), but instead of letting that happen, he nodded stiffly.

Not that he didn't let cracks shine through when he spoke and his voice nearly gave way, "Thank you..."

Lane couldn't exactly manage a smile, but she put a hand on his upper arm and squeezed reassuringly.

"It's alright. We'll catch the bastard, and then it'll all be over for good," she said, before quickly glancing at her watch. "But I have to get back to my precinct. I have to give a little debriefing before we go kick a door in."

Niles nodded, hoping Thomas' face was just the other side of said door. But he knew he'd have to wait and find out, and he also knew that he'd much rather find out after he'd been sat a while longer with Miss Babcock. She was back, and real, and he wasn't going to leave her by herself ever again. On whatever honour he had left, considering what he'd done before.

So, saying a farewell to Detective Lane, he turned away from where she was turning to leave, and went back into the room.