Chapter Text
He was so angry. So utterly betrayed.
He’d never felt like this in his entire life. She’d known, possibly even planned, one of the worst experiences of his life so far. She’d let him fall in love with her. And for what? Some sick game that she was now denying?
He finished his tirade, scoffing, before looking up to see what she had to say for herself, and frowned. Something wasn’t right. She was pale, much paler than he’d ever seen her, sweating and shaking. She reached for him, eyes wide and pleading.
“Babcock?” He cursed himself for the worry in his voice, but couldn’t shake the feeling that this was serious.
“Niles, I… help-” She crumpled to the floor before she could finish the request.
He dashed round from the other side of the table and dropped to his knees beside her. She was still shaking, eyes screwed shut and hands grasping at the air. He took one, and as his pinkie grazed her wrist he could feel her pulse racing.
“Hold on, Babs, I’ve got you,” he muttered, reaching desperately to grab the phone and dial 911.
They let him ride in the ambulance with her, if only because her heart rate increased as soon as he let go of her, but eventually they had to wheel her away into the depths of the hospital and he was left standing in the waiting room staring after her.
Was this what she felt? When I had my heart attack?
Not if she knew. Not if she planned it and did it to you on purpose.
This is stupid; how could she possibly know that would happen? The doctors even said it was a biological issue, and that it was only a matter of time. And if she did know then it means she put me on her insurance on purpose. The most she could have done was protect me.
He dropped into the chair nearest the door, put his head in his hands, and wept.
He had no idea how long he sat there, but it felt like forever. Finally, a doctor he recognised came back through the doors heading in his direction, and he was up and out of his chair. “Is she alright?”
“Physically she’s fine,” he assured him. “It seems to have been a massive panic attack.”
He swallowed hard, guilt flooding him. “But she’s okay?”
The doctor grimaced slightly. “We’ve reached out to her therapist. I don’t think she’s in her right mind at the moment. She keeps muttering apologies and asking not to be left alone.”
His heart broke. “Can I see her?” he asked quietly.
The doctor looked behind him, unsure if he should grant the request, then sighed. “I don’t suppose you could do her any more damage.”
He winced. Although the doctor probably meant that there was no harm in seeing her, the way he worded it poured salt into an already open wound.
I did this to her. This is all my fault.
He led Niles to a quiet single occupancy room and left him to it. CC was lying on the bed, shifting and fidgeting, and his heart ached for her. He could hear her muttering, and as he sat down in the chair next to the bed he could just make out what she was saying.
“Sorry… I’m sorry… please don’t leave me…”
He picked up the hand nearest him. “I’m here, Babcock,” he said quietly. “I’m right here. You’re not alone.”
She didn’t seem to notice him, continuing to repeat the same thing over and over again.
He wasn’t aware he was crying again until he felt the tears slide down his neck. The realisation broke him, and he buried his face on the bed beside her, still gripping her hand.
“I’m sorry, CC. I didn’t mean it. I was stupid, and I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, but when an orderly in a white coat arrived to move her to the psych ward, he had no more tears to cry. He watched as they rolled her away, desperately trying not to scrub his face. It felt like doing so would ease his suffering, and he didn’t deserve it.
“Tell her I’ll visit,” he called after them. “Tell her I promise.”
“You must be Niles.” A soft voice brought him back from his zoned out state, and he looked up to find Dr Bort standing over him.
“Dr Bort?” His voice sounded hoarse even to him.
“So you know who I am?” she smiled, taking the seat next to him.
He nodded. “I’ve seen you a few times when I’ve dropped off or collected Miss Grace.”
“Ah, of course.”
“I take it they phoned you?”
“They did,” she said gently. “What happened?”
He winced.”We… had a bit of an argument. I fear I may have gone too far.”
She nodded, face serious. “Talk me through it.”
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I found… she has a journal. One I gave her, matter of fact,” he laughed bitterly. “It’s full of talk about my heart attack and planning around it, and all I could think was how manipulated I felt. I really, truly believed that she… and instead it’s for her own gain?” He looked up to the doctor, tears in her eyes. “I don’t get it.”
Dr Bort looked at him for a long time. “What did she tell you about it?”
“Nothing. I found it by accident. I thought it was just…” He shook his head, but suddenly remembered. “She kept trying to get me to read it.”
“Good enough,” the doctor muttered, then put her hand on his shoulder and waited until he made eye contact. “Niles, I need you to listen to me very, very carefully.” He nodded. “CC cares for you. Her intentions were never to manipulate you. And I think you need to read the entire journal.”
“You know about it?”
“I’m the one that told her to start it in the first place.”
He swallowed hard. “Should you be telling me any of this? Is there not some kind of patient confidentiality thing?”
“I find it to be in the best interest of my patient to tell you. Besides, from what you were saying, it was her wish that you read it anyway.” She gave him a slight look of pity and patted his shoulder, before standing and heading down the hallway to the psych ward.
“Read the entire journal,” he muttered to himself, standing and walking to the door. He gave a quick look over his shoulder, a part of him hoping he would see her standing there, all class and attitude ready to go, but there was nothing but an empty corridor.
Chester began yapping manically the second he opened the door to the apartment, practically leaping out of his arms. He’d collected the little dog on his way back, feeling that it was unfair to leave him in someone else’s care much longer. Besides, he couldn’t bear the thought of being in the apartment alone.
“Woah there,” he muttered, bending down and trying to pick up the dog again, but Chester was having none of it, running to the couch and curling up, eyeing his surroundings warily. He had an air of agitation about him, as though he could sense that something had happened to his master here.
“You’re more like your owner than either of you care to admit,” he said quietly. He grabbed the journal from where it had landed on the table, cringing slightly at the memory of his anger, and took a seat on the couch. Chester curled up next to him, as though trying to disappear between the man and the cushion, and Niles began to read.
~~~
I don’t know what I’m doing here. Even this feels stupid, but Dr Bort said to write it as though I was speaking so I guess this will have to do.
He’s alive. He’s still an asshole, but he’s real and breathing and alive.
I’ve missed him.
~~~
I can’t remember what order I wrote these in. It never occurred to me to keep a spare notebook lying around. What would I even write about?
This, apparently. I’ve noted down what I remember on the next page. I suppose I’ll have to add to it or amend it as I remember, but there can’t be a whole lot of things I’ve missed out.
~~~
WHAT I KNOW
- Nanny Fine arrives 1993
- Chester
- Niles heart attack (survives) 1996
- Max in London
Had a breakdown(unlikely)- Sheffield engagement/wedding 1998
- Niles heart attack 1999 - DIED
- 17 April 1999
- (possibly) drunk self to death 17 April 2000
- woke up in 1993
REMEMBER NAMES - MARGARET / BRIGHTON / GRACE / FRAN FINE
~~~
He kissed me. I mean, he did so before so it’s not all that surprising.
I’d forgotten he was good at it.
I asked him to stay and he did. I don’t know why I asked, and I don’t know why he agreed.
I think I just couldn’t bear the thought of seeing him leave.
He said we’re friends. I hope he knows how much that means to me.
~~~
Told Noel. He was more supportive than I would have expected, but then again he was always my best friend as a child.
He said that the best thing to do would be damage limitation. I can’t stop that first heart attack. I don’t know what he had it and I can’t see him agreeing to just go for a random check up. He said to put Niles on my insurance, so I updated it this morning. It’ll raise questions if he has to use it before then, but hopefully in the chaos of everything no-one asks questions about it.
I really don’t want him to die again. I don’t know if I could take it.
~~~
I think Niles is my best friend. How did that happen?
I enjoy spending time with him, more than I have with any other person I’ve ever met. He’s my soulm very good friend. Best friend.
No-one has ever just been with me before. In my space, existing. A quiet comfort.
My mother died. Noel phoned this morning. It’s strange how these things affect you.
But there he was. Taking care of me, getting me out of the room, making sure I ate. I don’t really want to be without him anymore.
~~~
He asked me to marry him. Two years too soon. It’s the most terrified I’ve been since waking up.
He told me that he’s been in love with me since just after Sara died. If that’s right, it means it was true when he asked the first time. When I laughed at him. When I just completely dismissed him.
And for that I lost him.
I can’t marry him. I need to make sure he survives…
~~~
He’s alive.
Had to get a few stents fitted, but he lived. He’s sleeping in my guest room. I wonder what I would have done if this had been an option the first time round.
It’s so strange to think that they only found that because of my insurance status. He was just walking around with a significant blockage in his heart, with arteries that were just a little too thin, and no-one did a damn thing.
He clocked the insurance. And the fact I had to tell them I was his wife.
And he asked me to kiss him. Said if he could survive that he could survive anything, but he looked like such a shy schoolboy. Besides, one kiss had already woken him up; what harm could another do?
~~~
I don’t think I’ve ever used the guest room, not even in the original reality. But now it seems so natural to have him there.
Helping him like this has eased more guilt than I realised I still had.
He told me he loved me, half unconscious as I put him to bed. I already knew, but that’s the first time he’s said it. The first time I’ve let him say it. Now that we’re past this point and I know he’s alright, can I let him say it again?
~~~
I told Maxwell. He kind of dragged it out of me to be honest, but he knew something was wrong, and it’s so hard keeping it all bottled up. Just telling Noel wasn’t enough.
I’m not sure he actually believes me, but at the very least he’s supportive. It’s always been his best trait. Although now I’m scared telling him will change something else. First I told Noel, then Mummy died. Now I’ve told Max…
But the worst is over. He’s been as thoroughly checked out by a heart specialist as one can be.
I’ve done what I can.
~~~
He came to watch Chevy with us this time, and I took him gambling as a reward.
He called me ‘his baby’, like a lucky charm. Normally I hate possessive nicknames, but when he says it, it feels different.
He came up to the suite and we sat talking. For a long time, about nothing. And when we weren’t, it was just nice to sit with him.
It was such an ordinary thing to do. But when I looked over at him I realised.
I love him.
I just thought I always knew I missed him. I always knew I cared.
But I love him. Truly, honestly, wholeheartedly love him.
There’s still a part of my brain that’s saying I can’t do anything about it, because that would be throwing everything I know out the window. But like Max said, what was this all for, if not to be happy? If not to let him be happy?
I’m going to tell him. When we get home.
~~~
He stared at the words on the page for what felt like forever, training the pen lines with his fingers. They really were there, black ink on white paper, in her handwriting, and written weeks ago according to the date on the page.
She loved him.
Babcock, who had been so insistent that he couldn’t possibly have feelings for her. Babcock, who had told him she couldn’t marry him but still put him on her insurance. Babcock, who took him into her home after his hospital stay for an entire month, and read aloud to him when she thought he couldn’t hear.
Babcock, who had apparently been so destroyed by his passing that she’d managed to alter reality itself.
He knew it, of course he knew it. Logically, she’d all but told him that night in the apartment. But seeing the words. It felt different. It felt real. He slumped to the floor, clutching the little notebook to his chest, and once again wept.
He was by her side every day, for as long as the medical staff would allow him to be there. Initially they’d been annoyed by his presence, however the moment he was gone CC seemed to become more agitated and harder to placate, and so they decided to just let him be.
Mr Sheffield came to visit the Friday of the first week. He’d only given the man the most basic rundown of the situation so he would know not to expect either of them at the mansion for the next while. Looking back he realised how presumptuous that had been of him - to tell his employer that he wouldn’t been working for an indefinite amount of time so that he could sit at the hospital bed of the other missing employee. Mr Sheffield had taken it very well, he thought.
“How is she?”
Niles looked up to see Mr Sheffield poking his head round the door to Babcock’s private room. “Sleeping for now, Sir. She is improving day by day, although she still has the most horrendous nightmares if her screams are anything to go by.”
The other man frowned as he moved into the room and took up the chair next to him. “She’s had a lot going on,” he muttered.
“I think that’s putting it mildly.” There was a moment of silence, and he could feel the tension in the air, the unspoken question his companion desperately wanted to ask. “Yes, I know.”
He let out a breath. “She told you?”
“Not… exactly.”
“What happened?” he asked gently, and Niles leaned back in his chair, running his hands over his face. He would not cry about it. Not again.
“I saw the journal without context. And I was… more than a little hurt at the implication that she may have had something to do with my heart attack.”
“What jour- wait, you thought she had something to do with it?”
He nodded. “I lashed out. It felt like such a betrayal.”
“But you know she didn’t, right? If anything, she saved your life.”
“Well I know that now. But when you see notes that say ‘heart attack 1996 - survived’ followed by ‘heart attack 1999 - died’ it’s not exactly comforting.”
Mr Sheffield signed. “You know that she loves you though?” He nodded. “You know that she waited all this time because she was terrified something else would happen to you and she couldn’t save you? Like with her mother dying?” Again he nodded. “Give her time, Old Man. This is the culmination of four years of built up stress and anxiety. All over protecting you.”
“She deserves better than someone who would accuse her of what I did,” he muttered, crossing his arms over his knees and resting his forehead on them.
“She deserves what she fought for, Niles. And whether or not you agree, that’s you.”
“I know.”
He felt a hand gently pat his back, before he heard the other chair scrape on the floor and the other man stood. “Take the time you need, and we’ll drop in when we can.” He heard him cross to the door, but paused. “Oh and Niles?” He looked up to see Mr Sheffield smiling at him. “I asked Miss Fine to marry me.”
For the first time in days, he genuinely smiled. “About time too, Sir. I’m so happy for you.”
Two weeks after she was first admitted she started to withdraw into herself again, and he worried. Nothing he did seemed to perk her up, and so he resigned to just be there for her. The culmination of it was when he arrived one morning to find her curled up in a foetal position, sobbing uncontrollably. In seconds he was by her side, taking hold of the hand she held out for him, while reaching out to brush a stray lock from her face.
“What’s wrong? What happened?”
“I can’t…” She shook her head, and he grew angry at the world for putting her in this position. It was easier than being angry at himself.
“Tell me what I need to do,” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead to hers. “Anything. Name it and it’s done.”
It took a long time for her to answer, and when she did it came out as a whisper. “Make them stop.”
“Make who stop, love?” The endearment slipped out unconsciously, but neither commented on it.
“The voices. The ones in my head. They just won’t stop.”
His heart broke, and he swallowed down the sob that threatened to escape him. This was the reason for her silence? The voices in her head had overcome her own? He forced the thoughts down, knowing he had to hold it together, if only for her sake. Steeling himself, he pulled back slightly and took her face gently in his hands, waiting for her to make eye contact.
“You are CC Babcock. The Bitch of Broadway. The strongest, fiercest, most stubborn woman I have ever known. You’re so ridiculously smart. You have the money to live a comfortable life and do nothing, and yet you work your ass off because you love what you do and you’re good at it. You are incredible; you’re sophisticated, you’re witty, you’re beautiful, and I would burn the world down around us to keep you safe and happy.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “Wow,” she whispered.
“I am louder than the voices in your head,” he murmured quietly, voice full of conviction. “Don’t ever let them forget that.”
That seemed to be the turning point in her recovery, and slowly but surely she came back to herself. Before he knew it, she’d been there for a month, and she was staying awake for hours at a time and able to hold conversations with him. On the twenty-eighth day of her stay, he arrived to find her getting dressed.
“What are you doing?” he panicked, rushing over to help her.
“I’m getting out of here,” she mumbled.
“Babs you can’t just-”
“I can’t stay here, Niles. Please.” She looked up at him, eyes huge and pleading. “Please don’t make me stay here.”
He frowned sadly, looking around the room for anything that may help and rubbing her upper arms, before relenting. “Alright, alright. Let me go speak to the front desk and see about getting you discharged. In the meantime, please will you sit back down?”
She held his gaze for a moment, before hanging her head. “Fine.”
“That’s my girl,” he muttered soothingly under his breath, and helped her back into bed before heading back out to find someone to talk to. Thankfully he managed to find her original doctor not too far away from her room, and asked the question.
“I… I don’t know,” he hummed.
“Please. She’s miserable here, and she’s clearly stable enough to hold a conversation.”
“But alone-”
“I’ll stay with her.” The words were out of his mouth before his brain caught up. Once it did, his resolve hardened. “I’ll be with her the whole time, and if there are any relapses, I’ll call Dr Bort. Or 911. Or whoever you need me to.”
The doctor looked at him for a long time, studying him, before sighing. “Fine. I need the bed anyway.”
The relief he felt was overwhelming. He had no idea what he would have said to her if it was a solid no. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I’ll get her paperwork sorted and leave it at the front desk for signing, along with a list of numbers to call in emergencies.”
He nodded, thanked the doctor again, and practically ran back to her room. She was still there, lying in bed and looking so utterly miserable. She turned her head to look at him as he returned, and he could tell that she clearly expected him to say that she would have to stay.
“Right, Babs. Time to pack up; you’ve taken up enough of these good people’s time.”
Her expression turned from one of despair into one of shack. “I can leave?”
“You can leave. They’re letting you out on the condition you’re not left alone for the foreseeable-” her face dropped slightly at that “- and so I’ll be taking up your guest room again.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and he had to look down to stop himself from crying with her. “You’ll stay? With me?”
“Not about to break you out then dump you home alone, Babcock,” he muttered, shuffling his feet. The next thing he knew she was out of bed, her arms around his neck and face pressed to his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
He swallowed hard, and wrapped his arms around her tightly for just a moment. “Plenty of time for that later. For now, we need to get you out of here.”
He drove her home that day. The second she stepped outside the hospital and took a breath of fresh air, it was as if a massive weight was lifted from her shoulders.
He wanted to walk into traffic for the pain he’d caused her.
They were silent the whole way back to the apartment, with him holding her arm and steadying her until they reached her bed and he got her under the covers. As he turned to leave, she grabbed his arm.
“No.”
“What’s wrong, Babcock?” he asked, worried he’d missed something.
“Don’t go.”
The realisation of what she wanted dawned on him. “I’m not going far; just to the kitchen to grab a drink and I promise I’ll be right back.”
She gripped him tighter for just a moment, before nodding and letting him go. He dashed through, grabbed a couple of glasses of water, and was back beside her in record time.
“I’m here,” he huffed, very slightly out of breath, setting the water on her bedside table. She said nothing, but immediately reached out for him. He removed his shoes and jacket before crawling under the covers beside her, and instantly she seemed to relax, curling up against him like a child.
“I’m sorry, CC,” he murmured, rubbing her back soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”
She tilted her head up to look at him, eyes half closed. “What for?”
“For all of it. Everything. What I said… I should have known… I’m such an idiot.”
She lifted her hand to cup his cheek, and as she did he realised his face was soaked with tears.
“No you’re not,” she murmured. “You’re my best friend. And I love you.”
He swallowed hard, fighting back sobs lest he frighten her with the intensity of his emotion. He knew she did; he’d read the words in her own handwriting. But hearing her say it was something completely different.
“I know you do, love,” he choked out, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you too.”
