Victory

CC tossed her pack of cigarettes onto the coffee table. Niles and cigarettes—she really needed to discover some new coping mechanisms. Chester trotted into the living room, his paws padding lightly on the blonde wood floors. She patted the cushion next to her and, following his cue, Chester jumped up. He walked in circles for a few moments before curling up next to her leg.

She turned on the television and tapped the remote restlessly against the arm of the couch. There were precious few things in this life that calmed CC's inner restlessness, and they were unreliable in their fluctuation. Sometimes jogging accomplished it; other times, it exacerbated it. Smoking could quell it for a while but the relief never lasted long. Crunching numbers worked, but once the budget was established and revisited once, it became tedious to do it again. Scotch and gin provided momentary relief like cigarettes, whereas whiskey just took her bundle of nerves, doused them in gasoline, and threw matches on them.

Sadly, unfortunately, the only consistent thing that worked was Niles. Sex could usually accomplish it, but as the years progressed, his presence acted as a soothing balm to her overactive soul.

This, of course, explained why CC reverted to her old habits—drinking, smoking, carbs, and exercise (a paradox more reflective of the enigma of CC Babcock than anything else)—whenever Niles became absent from her life in one way or another. Was it any wonder that she needed to double up her efforts to quit smoking after Niles cradle-robbed Fran's cousin Sophie while she remained stuck in the wine cellar?

But here she was again, without Niles and crawling in her own skin. She'd been dealing with this her entire life and no therapist had ever been able to help her. This nagging discomfort, the feeling that there was more, that she had to do more, that sitting still was not an option—yet the paralysis of indecision plagued her as she could think of nothing more to do.

This then explained why Niles remained so alluring to her—he presented the ultimate contentment in doing nothing but appreciating sensation and feeling. He accepted her as she was, completely, fully, without judgment; in short, he accepted her in the way she'd never been able to accept herself.

Her fingers itched towards the telephone—Kathryn's reappearance and CC's preparations for Maxwell's annual celebration of Sheffield-Babcock Productions meant she hadn't seen him in more than a fleeting capacity for the past few days. Not for the first time, but more seriously than ever before, CC considered allowing this escape from Niles and granting him full freedom and amnesty. It wouldn't be a traditional victory but still an outcome over which she had control.

Her mind cycled back on the same question: if she and Niles had never stated what they were, and Niles and Kathryn had never explained what they were, how did that make her different from Kathryn? Certainly, she had an extensive past with that insufferable man…but what did that all stand for, in the end? Nothing more than mist and vapor, which is all that memories ultimately became anyhow.

"To hell with it," CC suddenly said aloud. Chester jumped and pivoted his head to look at her questioningly. She gave him a reassuring smile as she grabbed her telephone and dialed the line that only Niles usually answered. The line rang one, two, three times before the other end picked up.

"Hello?"

CC's eyes popped out of her head and she hung up as quickly as possible, as though if she moved rapidly then Kathryn might never realize that anyone had called. She stood, her movements jolty and fragmented, and picked up her cigarettes, walking through the penthouse to the terrace door. A chilly breeze greeted and wrapped its arms around her, providing a cold and dismal comfort. The titchy sound of the lighter igniting promised a better comfort. Her nerves soothed immediately as she inhaled, blowing out rings of smoke and leaning against the glass wall.

There were two outlets for that telephone line, designed strictly for the help: one in the kitchen and one in the servant's room. CC's childhood home had had something very similar; it was how her and Noel had prank-called their crotchety old butler, as though he'd never be able to figure out it was the two giggling children upstairs.

Her mind veered in an entirely new direction: tactics. This required a revision of her previous battle plan, but she'd developed a remarkable flexibility throughout the years. It was a common trope in her family that if a Babcock were ever in charge of a military, wars would be over within hours and the blue-blooded family would always reign victorious.

This new situation necessitated a lack of offensive attack—such attempts would seem desperate and risky. She could reverse and go entirely on the defensive, awaiting his attack, but this felt too meek. She could reach out to her contacts at the INS and try to push Kathryn back to England, though CC doubted her ability to do so, as the woman was presumably just visiting. She could solve everyone's problems and strangle both Niles and Kathryn with the stupid telephone cord.

A satisfied smile settled on her face as she considered this last option, even as she acknowledged its unlikelihood. Someone would probably stop her as she went for the butler after discovering what she'd done to the hussy—for the hussy would go first.

She stubbed out her cigarette and left its remains in the ashtray on the table outside. If the butler were allowed to have his vices, then so, too, could she. It was time, she decided, to go shopping.

…

The elevator's ring announced her arrival at the Rainbow Room. It felt terribly gauche to have a celebration at such a tourist trap fraught with fake elegance, but Maxwell adored it as only a non-native New Yorker could. Judging by the wide-eyed look of awe on the nanny's face, CC suspected nothing could make Maxwell change his mind now.

A few moments passed before CC realized that the look of wonder on Fran's face was for her. In a surprisingly swift manner despite her skintight ensemble, Fran hurried over to CC but stopped a reverent two feet away.

"Miss Babcock," Fran practically gasped, "your gown is lovely. Is that Yves Saint Laurent?"

"It is, Nanny Fine. I'm impressed you can recognize one," CC said, running an admiring hand down her own side.

Fran took the backhanded compliment in stride. "I saw this in Vogue's runway edition. It's gorgeous."

"Thank you," CC said, and in a sweeping magnanimous gesture, added, "you look nice, too."

Fran squealed and danced around in a little circle, jabbering away.

"Ok, that'll do," CC said, waving a quelling hand and walking off.

More than a few heads turned to watch CC walk through the crowd, though the only one she happened to notice had sandy hair and smelled of Lemon Pledge and comfort. She knew he couldn't help the small half-smile that crested his face when he saw her in her off-shoulder frock of black velvet with panels of crimson silk that bloomed when she walked, but that small victory felt marvelous. She plucked a champagne flute off the tray of a passing waiter and tipped her glass towards him.

But when he shifted his body to face hers and took a step in her direction, CC insouciantly readjusted the matching crimson chiffon panel that hugged one shoulder and settled next to a handsome middle-aged backer in an Armani suit.

"Jeremy, how lovely to see you," CC said. Her voice was all pomp and no circumstance, but Jeremy glimpsed the expanse of CC's white collarbone and didn't care.

…

Niles stopped heading towards her when he saw her talking to another man. What had been his plan, anyhow? Niles was getting sloppy, but damn Babcock and that gown. It looked as though it were made for her and the splendor of it when she turned suddenly, the gown flaring around her like a ring of black and bloodred fire…Niles went to take a leveling sip of scotch and realized his glass was empty.

He had seen Kathryn walk into the party earlier and saw the way her eyes lit up when she saw him. Rattling the ice cube remnants in his glass as he headed toward the bar, Niles ruminated on the likelihood that he hadn't handled that situation as best as he'd thought. He also had a gloomy feeling that when he'd entered his room some nights ago and saw Kathryn hanging up the phone, it had been CC on the other line. Kathryn had held up the book she'd let him borrow as the reason why she'd been in his room, but he didn't believe that, either. He'd shuffled her out and sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the phone, hoping it might ring again. Of course, it hadn't.

"Scotch on the rocks, please," Niles ordered. The bartender nodded and set about making his drink while Niles tapped his fingers on the bar and perked up when he heard CC's name.

"That dress," one of the men commented to the other standing next to him.

"I know. I didn't want to have to spend the night kissing her ass, but I might not mind with her looking like that," the other returned with an appreciative chuckle from his friend.

Niles took the proffered drink from the barman and paused as he passed the two men. "You should try kissing between her shoulder blades instead. She likes that." He raised his glass in a cheer and walked away, leaving the two men looking slightly baffled.

He circled the room slowly, sipping his drink and wishing he could tell CC that he was giving seduction tips to the potential backers in the room. That likely wouldn't bring about any sort of victory, but Niles wasn't sure he minded. His victories over her were less and less fulfilling these days.

Something had changed within him, between them, and Niles could trace it back to a few weeks ago. The image of her silhouetted in the moonlight, perched on the edge of his bed, would likely remain etched in his memory for the rest of his life—if he could paint, it would be his masterpiece; if he could write poetry, it would be his most celebrated ode; if he could compose music, it would be his magnum opus. But the significance of that image was the context in which it had occurred—they'd recently made love, and that was the difference. It hadn't been sex. It hadn't been any vulgar synonym therein. He had actually made love with her, not to her, and that was what had changed.

Seeing Kathryn again had only confirmed it, but Niles stood at the proverbial fork in his road and did not know which path to take. He suspected this—along with CC's jealousy—was why he hadn't been with CC since. He wondered not if she'd felt it also, for he knew she had, but now wondered if maybe that was also why she was staying away.

Rarely had there been a mutual victory between them; the power imbalance was, strangely, what kept their relationship stable. But if they both won, and they both had that night, that seemed to threaten to knock everything off-balance. Niles washed away this complexity and possible contradiction with another searing sip of scotch.

He paused at the back of the room, near the elevators. The condensation on the glass chilled his fingertips as he watched CC interact and schmooze near the floor-to-ceiling windows. The light reflecting off the glass caused little winks of reflection off of CC's dress; Niles hadn't noticed the slight beading around the hemline, twirling around her body to end at her right shoulder.

He contemplated CC, their history, their situation. He watched as one of her surrounding gentlemen said something and he watched as she gave a splendid rendition of her laugh. He watched as she watched the other man, eyeing his reaction, observing the situation, waiting to work it to her advantage. Always a winner, that one. She never lost.

Niles threw back the rest of his scotch and took a bracing breath. He knew what he had to do.

…

CC floated out of the elevator and onto the sidewalk. The cool night air caressed her skin, chilling her warm cheeks. She didn't think she'd ever made a more fine selection than this dress. Things were going so well; perhaps there was magic in it.

"Lovely gown," said a British voice behind her.

CC turned easily, pulling open her velvet clutch and retrieving a cigarette. Kathryn's red hair nearly matched the silk in CC's dress in the dimmed light. "Thanks."

"Did you come here alone?" Kathryn asked, inhaling her own cigarette, which CC saw was thankfully almost finished. She lit her own and waited a moment before replying.

"Yes. I'm assuming you did as well?" CC asked in her most polite voice. It had not escaped her attention that Niles was not spending the bulk of his time with the former maid this evening.

"I'm here with Niles, actually," Kathryn responded, flicking the ash off her cigarette. CC nearly pulled away, as the ash had almost fallen on her dress. But it proved impervious.

CC raised her eyebrows in cool surprise. "Really."

"Really," Kathryn confirmed. She seemed indecisive about something, but she continued on soon after. "This is a terrible habit, of course," indicating her cigarette, "but I just can't resist one after a good shag, you know?"

CC eyed the maid indifferently. It was almost cute in the way that she clearly wanted CC to react to this statement which she knew was false—a "good shag" from Niles almost completely eradicated the need for a cigarette. Instead of responding, CC flicked her cigarette in Kathryn's direction and turned determinedly to walk back into the party.

"Hey! Watch it!" Kathryn cried out, hopping away from the lit tip.

"Funny," CC remarked as she swept towards the doors, the skirt of her dress swinging imperiously. "I was just going to say the same to you."

CC punched the elevator button angrily, happy when the doors slid open immediately. She stepped in and rode it back to the restaurant. CC was determined to emerge victorious from this. The butler would pay for CC having to put up with Kathryn not just this time, but throughout the years. There was clearly nothing there, as Kathryn always left, but enough caused her to always come back, and for this, Niles would be punished.

She used the remaining time in the elevator to reorient her mindset from sly businesswoman to general in combat. For the past few weeks, she'd been considering that perhaps the nature of her relationship with the butler needed to change. It felt as though it had been evolving naturally, and CC had considered allowing it, but silly little things like the British maid forced her to concede that maybe it never would. Maybe it shouldn't.