Raindrops In The Ocean

By Laura Schiller

Based on: The Nanny

Copyright: Fran Drescher

"Aw, Mistah Shef-field … "

The first thing Niles heard upon waking up at the hospital was a nasal Queens accent he could have identified from miles away. He opened his eyes and smiled to himself. In spite of the green walls and sterile environment, Miss Fine's voice made him feel right at home. And if behind the curtain, Mr. Sheffield's attentions were getting that tone out of her … well, his heart attack might almost be worth it.

The door flew open and CC Babcock glided in, dressed in cream from head to toe and carrying purple and white tulips. Scratch that. The heart attack was definitely worth it.

He braced himself for the first exchange of insults, trying not to stare too much at the blood-red lips he had been kissing in his dream. If she ever found out, she'd probably extend his stay in the hospital for a long time …

"Niles, I'm so glad you're awake!" she squeaked, tiptoeing over to his bedside. "How are you feeling?"

How am I feeling? Good God … who is this and what has she done to Miss Babcock?

He surveyed her thoroughly from the lowered perspective of his hospital bed, and was even more surprised. Her cheeks were flushed and tear-stained, her eyes were red, and under her beaming smile she was more jittery than he'd ever seen her on an opening night.

"I'm fine," he said.

She sat down by his bed, placed the flowers (flowers!) on his nightstand, and looked down at him with a too-wide smile.

A brilliant idea struck him. What if he sent her behind the curtain to discover Mr. Sheffield seducing Miss Fine? She would probably scream like a little girl faced with a snake - hilarious. And maybe this time, she would finally get it into her stubborn head that Mr. Sheffield was out of her reach … a fact which Niles had been showing her in ever more creative ways ever since Miss Fine's arrival. Maybe this time, Miss Babcock would finally stop wasting all her talent and beauty on a man who would never see them, and look for someone who could make her happy …

"Is there anything I can get you?" she asked, still in an oddly high-pitched voice.

Now would have been the perfect opening, but Niles hesitated. He strained his ears in the direction of the curtain; the faint rustling he heard was inconclusive, easy to mistake for a restless sleeper. He looked back up at her and saw that her smile had faded into a look of deep anxiety. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap.

She's trying to be nice to me, he realized, and doesn't know how. Poor woman, to think I collapsed on her mid-argument … how guilty she must be feeling.

Perhaps it was not a time for pranks after all.

"Nothing," he told her politely, "But I'm all right. Thank you for the flowers, Miss Babcock. And there I thought your closest acquaintance with plants was with the plastic lemon tree Miss Fine gave me."

It was the gentlest one-liner he could come up with, just to break the ice. Miss Babcock's face relaxed into a genuine smile.

"That hideous thing?" she scoffed, waving an elegant hand. "I had it recycled months ago."

Niles tensed internally, waiting for a squawk of outrage from behind the curtain. Nothing came. Either Miss Fine was not listening (which Niles doubted), or she was too interested by this conversation to protest about the plastic tree. How peculiar, to be on the opposite end of the eavesdropping for once.

"Niles … I … " Miss Babcock made a move to touch his face, snatched her hand back, and blushed. "I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "If I hadn't been so nasty – when you fell, I thought … "

"My dear Miss Babcock, if your nastiness were fatal, Manhattan would be a desert by now. Seriously, it's not your fault. The doctors blame my goose liver patés."

He held out his hand to her in a gesture of forgiveness; she not only took it, but squeezed it between both of hers in a way that would have made him blush if he had the energy.

"Didn't I tell you all that rich food you make is just swimming in cholesterol?" she said, the softness of her eyes and the touch of her hands making the words irrelevant.

"That doesn't stop you eating it in Sylvia Fine-worthy quantities when you're trying to quit smoking."

"Sylvia Fine! How dare you?" She tried to glare at him, but grinned in spite of herself. "Ooh, I'll give you hell for that, Rochester, as soon as you're out of here."

She smacked his hand, very lightly, before letting go.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," Niles replied, with the best flirtatious smile an invalid could manage.

"Listen, I've got to go," said Miss Babcock, frowning at her wristwatch with honest regret. "I'm already late for a meeting with Sarah Brightman, her agent must be furious … so take care, all right? And – and lay off the patés!"

"Only if you lay off the cigarettes, Miss Babcock. Keep smoking and it may be your turn to land here."

Halfway to the door, she turned back and rolled her eyes. "See you, Butler Boy."

He barely had time to say his own goodbye before she all but bolted from the room, overwhelmed by the effort of showing kindness.

It was just a moment of compassion, a raindrop in the ocean of their eighteen-year feud – but raindrops made ripples, and Niles had the feeling that this moment would change both their lives for the better.

As soon as Miss Babcock's stiletto heels were out of earshot, the curtain drew back to reveal a shamefaced, tousled Mr. Sheffield and a very proud Miss Fine.

"Thanks for not giving us away, old man," said the former. "I owe you one."

Miss Fine shook her head and stared at the door in amused wonder. "Oy … who was that woman and what did she do with our Miss Babcock?"

"My sentiments exactly," replied Niles. "But I do hope she stays."

"Take care, huh?" Miss Fine quoted, with a wink that spoke volumes. Niles and Mr. Sheffield shared a look over her fluffy hair.

She's not going to let this go, is she, sir?

That's right … Yenta's on the loose.