Chapter 28

"A Long Way to Go!

Together, Lane and C.C. began their short walk from the café to the producer's new apartment. Still, they took it slow – Lane could tell C.C. wasn't looking forward to facing her friends and family – but they eventually made it inside, safe and sound.

Since neither Lane nor C.C. had a key, the doorman had to call ahead to announce they were back. They didn't stick around to hear the end of the short call between the doorman and either Niles or Stewart – Lane insisted they got going to the elevator. The detective clearly wanted C.C. to be back home as fast as humanly possible, and the producer was inclined to agree. She didn't like being out and about anymore – it felt…risky.

But, while C.C. was glad to be back inside, she wasn't exactly thrilled about what could be waiting for her the moment she got through her apartment's door. Her mind kept coming up with painful scenarios – from her parents screaming at her for leaving, to them looking down at her with disgust, ashamed of having to deal with their failure of a daughter. She honestly didn't know which of those options would be worse…

The closer they got, the worse the feeling became. It started to feel like it was clogging her from the inside so she couldn't breathe or speak. It felt like her stomach was full to spilling over and she'd be sick at any second, too. She gulped that feeling away as best she could – the last thing she wanted to do was vomit all over the place and make yet another embarrassing mess that someone else would have to clean up!

She'd done enough of that already.

They didn't even have to get to her end of the corridor before she noticed that the penthouse door was open. And, stood there in the threshold keeping watch like guardians, were both of her parents. Even from a distance, it looked like Stewart was still partially consoling B.B.. What exactly for, C.C. didn't think she could be completely certain.

But they'd already seen her coming – they must have heard the footsteps and had stepped out fully to look. All consolation and murmured conversation between them immediately ceased as they took off down the corridor towards her, smiles all over their faces.

"Kitten!" Stewart cried out, reaching out for his daughter as he got close.

B.B. wasn't far behind him, and she appeared to still be teary-eyed and sniffling delicately, "Oh darling! Thank goodness you've come back to us…!"

As soon as she was within arm's reach, they pulled C.C. into a hug.

The producer stiffened instantly in their embrace, her body sensing danger at the closeness. Her heart started pounding a bit harder, her back felt clammy, and a strange tingling had come over her skin as they'd pulled her in with murmured reassurances and apologies and promises of getting her anything she wanted or needed.

But the longer they were there, the more she saw there was no threat. No danger at all. It'd just been…kind of odd. She could handle that.

It was only her parents – her mother and father, who were holding her gently and asking for forgiveness like they'd been the ones to do anything wrong in this case!

She used to secretly dream that they'd do that for her, back when she'd been a kid and they'd been bitterly divorcing. And now, they really were, in a way. Having them both there, breathing in their warm cologne and perfume and feeling their arms securely around her, started to make her feel a bit like a little kid again. A kid who'd just realised how good she really had things right where she was. It put her fears at peace for the time being. Her mom and dad were clearly happy she was home.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep, relaxing breath, she leaned into their family hug and joined it as much as she could. Her hold wasn't particularly strong, but it was enough to both parents – they just wanted her there, with them, safe and sound.

Still, B.B. and Stewart were very careful about not placing their hands anywhere near her upper back. They didn't want a repeat performance of whatever the hell had happened just a few hours ago. They couldn't for the life of them understand what could have happened that had made C.C. run the way she did, but they also knew this wasn't the time to ask her about it. She'd only just been discharged from the hospital after a month-long stay, and she was still nowhere near being on firm ground where her emotional and physical wellbeing were concerned.

She needed plenty of rest, nourishment and support, and that was exactly what she was going to get from them both, as well as from Noel, Niles and the Sheffields.

"Why don't we head back inside?" Stewart eventually suggested. "You still need to keep bedrest and it's almost time for dinner. Niles offered to whip something up for us, if you want."

"I'd like that very much," C.C. said, relieved that her father hadn't attempted to talk about her little escapade just yet.

"Then we'll see to that right away," Stewart said to his child.

He then turned to Lane – the detective was standing a small way away, giving them some much needed space.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Detective Lane?" asked Stewart.

"Oh, no, it's okay," replied the detective. "I should get going home already – my husband and kids can't cook to save their lives, and it is a school night. Besides, I wouldn't want to inconvenience…"

"You're always welcome here, Lane," Stewart said. "But we understand…"

"I'll take you up on that offer some other time," Lane said as she went up to shake Stewart's hand. "Take care until then and, if you need anything at all, you just give me a call."

With that (and after shaking both B.B. and C.C.'s hands), Lane went back into the elevator and left the little family alone. As soon as she was gone, Stewart and B.B. gently ushered their daughter back into her apartment and locked the door behind them. The sound of it alone was like a reassuring hand moving to grip and hold hers. But it was made even more of a comfort by the smiles of her parents. They didn't seem mad at her at all, even after that stupid stunt she'd pulled…

She took that notion and shoved it to the very back of her mind. It was probably best not to think about it for now. She'd only ruin everything if she let it take over.

"You hungry, Kitten?" Stewart asked, leading her further into the apartment. "Niles did promise us anything, and you've got first pick."

"Anything you'd like at all, dear," B.B. agreed, squeezing her hand and wrist as they walked.

C.C. thought about it uneasily as she bent down to let Chester off his leash. She'd gotten food at the café when she'd imagined that she wouldn't be coming back, but she hadn't really done more than pick at it and maybe eat a few little select things. She still wasn't in the habit of eating much, or in asking for what she really wanted from too many people, but…but she supposed there was one thing she could go for.

She just hoped it was an actual option – she didn't want them to go to trouble, or for Niles or anybody else to get angry or upset because she'd changed her mind about having a home-cooked dinner basically the moment she'd walked in the door!

But her parents had said "anything"…

"Pizza," she said, before feeling like maybe it was a mistake to say that. She mumbled the rest, not quite able to meet her parents' eyes. "I…I really want pizza…"

She felt a hand grip her upper arm, and she looked up from where she had been watching Chester skitter off further into the apartment to see her dad smiling at her.

"Then pizza you shall have," he said with a nod. "We'll get some boxes ordered in from that little Italian place that you like – they do delivery, don't they?"

C.C. couldn't for the life of her remember whether they did or didn't. She was just happy that she'd avoided treading on another eggshell.

"It will take a long time for them to get here, though, won't it?" B.B. asked, not truly familiar with the ins and outs of delivery services. "Perhaps you should have a small snack, dear, while we wait…?"

C.C.'s stomach churned a little bit. The absolute last thing she wanted to do was ruin the happy atmosphere by bringing up her petty thievery and what she ate at the café. That was bound to make them mad, wasn't it? Or at least disappointed. But she couldn't keep what she'd taken, either. Not simply to avoid an uncomfortable guilt and sadness that she absolutely deserved for stealing from her own mother…

She shook her head at the suggestion, "No! Thank you, Mother. It's fine. But…well…"

She took the wallet out of the bag, holding it out to her mother and trying not to tremble at the mere thought of what she'd say.

"This belongs to you. I'm so sorry that I took it; I wasn't thinking straight…! Please don't be mad, I was—"

B.B. shushed her further attempts at apologising, taking the wallet and putting it down on the side table so that she could hold her daughter's hands again.

"I wouldn't ever be mad at you, dear. You need think nothing of it anymore."

C.C. didn't have words for her relief, or her joy at the fact that B.B. wasn't turning on her like the waking nightmare she'd imagined she might have to face. She could only express herself by reaching forward and pulling her mother into a grateful hug.

B.B. hummed out a quiet laugh, "Feeling better …?"

That did help, actually. Maybe not with everything, but it was more than enough for the moment.

"A bit," C.C. shuffled her feet, releasing her mother, "I'm…actually kinda tired now, though..."

She hadn't really thought about it much until then, but the whole day had taken its toll and now the first and only thing that was coming to mind was falling asleep for a while. Knowing that drove her parents straight into a new "looking after" mode, too.

"Well, you can always lie down for a while. We'll take care of getting the pizzas here and wake you when they're all set and ready," Stewart said. "Would you prefer to lie down in your room, or in the living room?"

C.C. blinked at him, "Is there a difference…? Can't I eat in there, too?"

It was too late to stop the slightly sharp question from coming out – she hadn't been able to help herself. Thomas had always had his rules about where she'd been able to eat in his house, and she hadn't yet kicked the habit of not following it.

Not that her parents knew that, and she wasn't planning on telling them anytime soon…

"No, no – you can eat in there, if you'd like," Stewart told her reassuringly. "It's just that…well, you know that Mr Sheffield and Miss Fine – Maxwell and Fran – came by to drop off Chester. They'd really like to see you while they're here, Kitten. Would you like to go and say hello as well?"

C.C. felt both her face and stomach drop. She'd completely forgotten Maxwell and Nanny Fine were there, too. She had yet to meet them since coming back – they'd wanted to visit her at the hospital but for one reason or the other they'd put it off. At first it had been because C.C. had been too delicate fighting to get over pneumonia and to actually get some of her nutritional values up, but once she'd been stabilised she simply hadn't wanted to see anyone else but her parents and Niles.

She'd known she'd eventually have to see them again, but now that the moment was there C.C. wasn't exactly sure she was ready. Meeting her family – her own parents and brother – had been hard enough, so was she really up to see Maxwell and Nanny Fine again?

Admittedly, they'd been two of the people she'd spent most of her time with, before she'd been kidnapped, so reuniting with them wasn't going to be easy. Knowing Nanny Fine, it was going to be completely emotional, and while C.C. had come to appreciate how much of an actual good person Nanny Fine was while she'd been locked up, she wasn't sure she could deal with her right then. Not when practically everything made C.C. want to cry, puke or scream.

But then again, they were already there. It wouldn't exactly be fair of her to refuse to see them when they'd taken the time to come visit her. Besides, there was a part of her that really wanted to see them again – she'd desperately missed them during the past months. It was just a difficult choice…

She didn't want things to go wrong or to freak out.

"You don't need to do it if you aren't ready, Kitten," he father said – he'd practically read her mind (which wasn't too difficult, considering C.C.'s clearly distressed expression). "They'll understand."

"I…I know…" she replied. " I would like to say hi, but, well, I just don't want things to go wrong. As in…you know…freaking out and all that…"

Stewart brought his daughter closer to him in a comforting hug.

"Why don't you give it a try then? If you feel like it's too much, you can always leave, no questions asked," Stewart suggested.

That seemed reasonable enough to C.C.. It wasn't ideal, but she'd still have a way out if she really needed one, which these days was more than appreciated. She wanted things to slowly go back to normal (or as normal as they'd ever be, after what she'd gone through) and this felt like a good enough first step – reuniting with the people she appreciated in the comfort and safety of her home. Out of all the emotional shit she still had to deal with, this was probably the most manageable.

"Okay," she said, trying to smile but not quite managing it. "But you'll stay there too, right?"

Stewart placed a small kiss on his daughter's forehead. "At all times, Kitten."

C.C. might not have been able to smile, but her father's words calmed her in a way she couldn't quite describe. It was like he was stepping up to the plate for her – protecting her and being brave because he knew she couldn't be. It was…relief, and appreciation, and love all at once.

She thought she could at least try to do it. With him and her mother there, of course, telling her it was all okay. That everything would remain okay.

"Good," she said, nodding. "What are we waiting for, then…?"

Stewart beamed at her and offered her an arm, which she took. And, with B.B. on her other side to gently let her know that neither of her parents were going anywhere, the Babcocks all walked into the living room together.

Maxwell's clenched fist ran over the upper leg of his trousers towards his knee for the…oh, he shouldn't have bothered; there was no point in trying to put a number to it. He'd actually lost count in the time he'd been sat there. All he knew was that it would've been enough to wear a trail down the fabric before too long!

Fran was nearly wearing a hole in the floor with her pacing, too. He nearly wanted to ask – tell? Ask was probably less…snappy – her to stop because the clicking of her shoes was making everything feel worse. But he couldn't do it. He didn't want to make her upset. She'd been missing C.C. just as much as he had, and this meeting was as nerve-racking for her as it was for him. They wanted nothing more than for it to go well.

Even over what still seemed to be the loudest shoes on Earth, they could hear the voices of the Babcocks coming from the hallway. C.C.'s amongst them. But she even sounded different. They'd been warned how much had changed about her, physically speaking, but hearing the cowed and quieter tone that had once been so confident and self-assured…

It made Maxwell's insides tighten unpleasantly, so much so that he thought he might be sick. The things C.C. had been through – the things they'd heard about from the police – had been soul-destroying. To think that someone had…had hurt such a strong and independent woman, so badly that she shouldn't even leave the house…!

A sharp pain twisted upwards into his chest even at the thought. He'd relied on her for so much, and they'd come through so much as a team. As a company. They'd put on shows and they'd won awards and they'd worked side by side for so long! And in all that time, he'd always felt that C.C. was one of the most formidable people he'd ever met.

Now, to hear that she'd been…no. No, he wouldn't even dare to think about that! It was all too much, and he wanted to at least put on a brave face for his friend. And he shouldn't have implied any of that about her not being herself, anyway – she was still C.C. Babcock, no matter what had happened!

That didn't take the guilt away, though. It got to the point where he was quite glad the Babcocks' approaching footsteps gave him a reason to stop thinking, stand up out of his chair, and turn around.

"Here she is…!" Stewart declared as the family came close.

Maxwell barely heard Fran's feet come to a slightly skidding halt on the floor behind him. He was too busy staring at the…the woman Stewart had just announced as C.C..

He nearly appreciated the fact that he had, because otherwise there would've been no way of knowing they were the same person, in the producer's eyes.

This C.C. looked…small. Skeletal, even – Maxwell didn't think he'd ever seen someone look so close to starving! Not with his own two eyes, at any rate! It was…flooring. Her skin stretched over her bones, making her look even more drawn, tired, and vulnerable, like a frightened animal, constantly checking her surroundings for predators that might snatch her up at any moment. Even when looking back at him and Fran, her friends, she looked like she was worried they were about to bear down on her with knives and torture devices!

She was…so different, to how they'd known her before…

Maxwell thought he could've broken down then and there. The pain had spread across his entire body upon seeing her, hurting nowhere more than in his heart, and it tore at him to know that the man who'd done all of this was out there somewhere, practically being allowed to get away with it! That bastard should've been behind bars already, or even strung up for what he'd done! The producer might not have been a malicious or overly-vindictive man, but he felt like he could easily have become one if he'd been alone in a room with the monster who'd treated his friend this way.

But he wasn't in a room with Thomas Jones. He was in a room with C.C. Babcock, and he had to push the pain down to try and offer her a welcoming smile. It was just a fraction of what she needed, and deserved to see, now that she was home.

"Hi," she said, offering Fran and Maxwell a little wave.

Still, her eyes didn't quite meet theirs – she was quick to look away, almost as if she were ashamed or scared. Had they been in her head, they'd have known she was a bit of both, but she mainly chose to avert their eyes because…well…eye-contact was still a bit much for her, especially when doing so had gotten her beaten up numerous time during the past eight months. Thomas would always say she was giving him attitude, if she dared look him in the eye…

"It's nice to see you," she added.

There was a short silence in the budding conversation – an uncomfortable one at that. Neither Maxwell nor Fran knew what to say for a moment. Or rather, they knew exactly what they wanted to say and do, but had they done it, they were sure it would have been too much for C.C.'s fragile emotional state. The first to snap out of it was obviously Fran – out of the two of them, she had the most tact, so Maxwell was happy to let her take charge.

"It's so nice to see ya too, Miss Babcock," Fran said, approaching the frail producer. "Might I give ya a hug?"

C.C. managed a small smile and nodded. "Sure…I wouldn't expect anything less from you…Nanny Fine."

Tentatively, Fran loosely wrapped her arms around the producer and the latter let it happen with only a small amount of discomfort. The sight would have been unthought of (and most likely unseen) before her kidnapping, but things were different now. C.C. appreciated being in the company of the people who genuinely cared about her, even if it entailed some physical contact.

Fran seemed to instinctively know prolonged hugs wouldn't be appreciated, so she soon let C.C. go and was content to simply give the producer a warm smile. Part of Fran wanted to weep – the sight and the state of Miss Babcock was truly heartbreaking – but she held herself together. She might not have been the sharpest tool in the shed, but she prided herself on knowing how to deal with people's emotions. And right now, if the nanny cried, it would break C.C..

"Well, ya know me!" said Fran, waving a dismissive hand. "I can't––"

"You got engaged," C.C. interrupted, having caught a glimpse of the massive diamond ring that now sat on the nanny's finger.

It was obvious to C.C. who had given that ring too. At one point the sight of that ring would have driven her over the edge, but now…now it merely made her sad. Not because Maxwell had gotten together with his nanny (and she now knew they were definitely meant for one another), but rather because it was yet another reminder of how much she'd missed while she'd been gone. There was also another part of her that felt slightly repulsed by the ring. It reminded her far too much of the one Thomas had forced her to wear for so long and against her will.

There had been a time when the notion of marriage (especially to Maxwell) was something she'd looked forward to, but now…well…suffice to say that the simple idea of marriage triggered her anxiety.

Still, deep down she was happy for Nanny Fine, she deserved to be happy, as did Maxwell. Theirs was true love – true, free love, unlike the travesty that Thomas had wanted to pass for a "relationship". It was a happy occasion, even if she couldn't fully appreciate or enjoy it.

Just because she was miserable it didn't mean the rest of the world had to feel the same way.

"Oh…yeah, a few weeks ago," Fran replied, smiling still but her voice denoting just the tiniest hint of apprehension.

"Congratulations," C.C. said and, surprisingly enough (surprising to herself especially), she really and truly meant it. "I…I'm happy for you."

"And we are happy to have you back," Maxwell finally interjected – he'd been nervously watching the short conversation, waiting for the right moment to butt in. "We've missed you terribly…"

C.C. turned to look at the other producer. Maxwell. Her friend and partner in the crazy world of show business – whom she'd done so much for, and who'd put up with a whole lot of crap from her in return.

She had no idea how she'd begin to make up for half the stuff that had happened over the years. She was just grateful that she was actually getting the opportunity. Down in that…that place where she'd been, she'd thought she'd never get the chance. That she'd never see him, or any of her other friends or loved ones, ever again.

She'd imagined that she'd find herself down there in the darkness still, even as the months dragged on into years, remembering their names and their faces, wondering if they'd forgotten her and had moved on with the lives she'd once been a part of.

But that was just a bad dream now.

"I've missed you too," she bit down on the inside of her lip to stave off tears welling up. "None of you have any idea how much…!"

Maxwell smiled, but it creased with the weight of his own sadness, which was as plain on his face as the sky outside the window. He moved forward, hesitating a little at first, but then seeming to push it to one side because it was her and coming forward to give her a light hug, just like Fran had.

C.C. welcomed it, too – she hadn't been hugged so much in so long, or by so many that she'd feared she'd lost for good…

That did it for a few of her tears, which started to spill out over her cheeks and roll quickly downwards. They didn't stop, either, even as she pulled away from Max's hug. Over his shoulder, she noticed Niles' expression change at that – he'd seemingly been hanging around the kitchen door (the border of his natural habitat), and the sudden appearance of her tears forced him to move. It was like he'd been a watching statue until then, waiting for his moment to come to life.

"Would anybody like some refreshments?" he asked, quickly and loudly enough to take the attention of the whole room. "Tea? Coffee? I can put out a few bits and pieces to nibble on…"

Him taking the limelight like that allowed C.C. to step away from Maxwell and wipe her eyes without the fuss or attention she knew she would've gotten if anybody else had seen she'd been crying. It took the pressure of that right off her shoulders, so she could set herself straight a little bit without anybody suddenly feeling the need to pile on her with love or anything like that.

Stewart, who'd also seen that his Kitten was getting emotional and needed a break and a fast getaway from it, joined the butler by answering just as loudly.

"I'd love some coffee, thank you, Niles! In fact, why don't I come help you get that all set up in the kitchen and then we order dinner? C.C. would like to have pizza tonight," he walked right on over, addressing Fran and Max as he prepared to head for the kitchen. "You kids get settled and comfortable – C.C. needs to take the load off her feet for a while, so we'll handle the heavy work."

That sounded good enough to everybody, and soon C.C. was comfortably settled on one of the sofas, covered by a warm, fluffy blanket B.B. had brought for her, and with Chester snuggled up on her lap. The little dog simply didn't seem to want to get away from his owner, which was just as well because C.C. found the fluffball's presence to be incredibly soothing.

He also helped distract C.C. from the uncomfortable feeling that she should be the one seeing to everybody's needs. It wasn't a rational feeling, that much she knew, but she couldn't help it. She'd spent months on end essentially waiting on a psychopathic bastard under constant threat of violence – that was bound to leave emotional scars…!

She had absolutely no idea how she'd ever get over the trauma. The mere thought of opening up about what had happened to her – actually telling another human being about the things she'd reduced herself to doing or bearing – was simply inconceivable. C.C. didn't want to recount even the tiniest fraction of the time she'd spent at Thomas' house. She didn't want to relive the horror, but most of all she absolutely refused to talk about how ashamed it made her feel…

How guilty and dirty…

Part of her still stubbornly stuck to the notion that everything that Thomas had done to her – that every beating, chore and abuse – had been her fault. It had been her fault for not fighting him. For not resisting his awful demands and just giving in like a weak little bitch – his bitch, as he'd so often called her.

Back in the early days of her captivity, C.C. remembered that, at the voice's suggestion, she'd actively blocked out any "what if" scenarios – it had told her that she simply couldn't dwell on what she could have done to avoid being taken when she needed to focus on survival. The constant threat to her life had certainly made heeding the voice's advice a lot easier.

But now that she was back home – now that she didn't have to fear being beaten, starved or abused at any given time – her troubled mind had little else to focus on.

It wasn't as though she had work or responsibilities she could direct her energy towards, either. If she'd had something else – something solid, concrete, and real – to take her attention away now that she was back, then she might've been…not okay. She knew she wasn't that, no matter what she told herself. But she might've been able to sweep the thoughts and the feelings under a rug in her mind, stomp them down, and worry about the mess underneath another day.

Just being sat there by herself and thinking about it was enough to let a whole pile of guilt build up around her. She felt stupid and so, so angry with herself every time she thought about what she could've done differently, but no matter what happened, she couldn't stop them from coming. They just manifested there like ghosts meant to haunt her and only her, swirling around in her brain and fogging it up with ideas she could've tried. Things she knew she could've done, back when she'd still been normal. Herself. Not broken.

What if she'd taken more time getting out of the hospital? Taken another elevator that was stopping at every floor on the way down, or gone for some shitty coffee in the cafeteria, or had had her fucking cigarette outside the doors before she'd tried to leave? She could've done any of those – it'd been her luck before everything had turned to shit that she would've gotten in an elevator that was taking its sweet time getting anywhere. She liked coffee, and even shitty hospital coffee would've probably helped her mood. If she'd had that cigarette at the door she might've noticed the huge fucking stormcloud sooner and ducked back inside to wait it out!

She might've even calmed down enough to go back and get her stupid wallet. What the fuck did pride matter when you'd sacrificed everything you'd ever had, and had gotten tricked by a maniac, in order to keep it? And she'd even let go of pride in the end! She hadn't tried to get out of that house when she'd still been whole. She'd let Thomas keep her down there in that dungeon of a basement; she'd let him turn her into a lowly, cowering slave! She'd let him…

That upcoming thought made her want to be sick, so she shoved it out of her head before it could finish forming, and swallowed. She had to think about something else – she wasn't supposed to be thinking about any of it at all! Not like that, anyway. It wasn't good for her; the mental health nurse they'd regularly sent along to her room at the hospital had said so. It wasn't healthy.

Which was just as well, because she didn't feel healthy in any other way, shape, or form. But she supposed if she was going to get any kind of better (she didn't see how she would, but everyone else said it was possible), then she had to at least try. And that meant starting to direct her attention somewhere else.

Luckily Chester was still there with her, and she was sat right in front of the TV – a great big box of distractions, and a tiny, little orange distraction right there on her lap. The Pomeranian's fur felt soothing underneath one hand, and the other one reached out for the remote, which had been left on the sofa cushion next to her. Probably by her dad, or Nanny Fine, in the rush to make her feel comfortable.

She didn't even bother going through the news channels. The thought of going there and being met with her own face, or Thomas', or Lane giving some sort of update on the manhunt was enough to make her want to die, so she steered clear. She channel hopped instead, but her stomach got tighter and her breath caught more in her throat with everything she landed on. Cop shows and action programmes were everywhere – the shouting rang in her ears and echoed in her head, every beating given to some asshole criminal gave a shadow of a thud into her own body…

Every missing person the heroes were looking for and rescuing made her feel even more hopeless, because nothing like that ever happened in real life…

She kept flicking through the channels, starting to get desperate, until a flash of bright colour and pleasant orchestra music rose in her ears. A brown mouse came barrelling around the corner of a cartoon house onscreen, followed not-too-closely by an enraged, bluish-grey cat.

Tom and Jerry. She hadn't seen it in years. She hadn't seen any cartoon in years, in all honesty! But…well, she didn't feel so bad watching this. No one was yelling, for a start. No one was getting beaten half to death, either, and if they were hit at all it was with a frying pan and the comically large bump that grew out of their heads could be pushed back down, shaken off, and never mentioned again.

Yeah. This was fine. This was a distraction.

It wasn't a distraction for Niles, however. Or for any of the others gathered in the kitchen doorway, watching C.C. watch her cartoons. The butler wondered if they were all thinking the same thing – that it had probably been a mistake to all get up and let C.C. be alone, even for those few minutes they'd been busy getting snacks from the cupboards and ordering the pizza. Since when did she watch cartoons of any kind? Of her own accord, anyway? They were the last form of entertainment the C.C. Babcock they knew would go to – cartoons were too childish…uncomplicated…safe…

Yes. Of course they were safe. They were light, and it probably helped her to feel the same way…

Niles felt his face falling, along with his heart and all of his other organs, and he exchanged a look with the others. They all seemed as upset by the sight as he was, but they probably didn't have any more of an idea of what to do than he did. It wasn't as though they had the same scars as C.C.; they couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd gone through to get to this point…!

They didn't know what could turn someone to something they'd never have done before – even if that something was as trivial as a change in television tastes.

Niles didn't particularly care if it was only trivial. It didn't sit well with him, no matter how small and unassuming the actual scene before him might've been. Something terrible had happened to make this change, and even if he knew he had to be assured that love and care and support would help get C.C. back on the path to feeling more like herself, this all made it seem like that first step was still a very long way away.

After everything they'd all been through in the past few hours, it almost seemed like they'd need a miracle to make it happen.

But none of them could stay stock still in the kitchen doorway forever. So, with some gentle urging and a few gestures, he started encouraging the others back through into the living area. C.C. would be waiting for something to eat and drink before dinner arrived, and probably some kind words from the people who cared about her the most.

And besides, if they wanted that miracle, they needed to be the ones to help provide it.