A/N: Who knew that driving home from work down a very long road that never seemed to end would lead to this? Story ideas come from the most amazing places.

He should have known that something was wrong when he heard the soft knock on his office door, followed by the sound of the door opening. He looked up in surprise. It wasn't like Mrs. Woodson to enter his office unannounced. But the expression on her face told him that she had a very good reason for acting out of character.

"Mrs. Woodson, whatever it is, can you come back later? I really need to finish these notes on Mr. Larson. His schizophrenia has gotten progressively worse."

But instead of doing as he asked, she simply stood there, grim-faced, her eyes brimming with tears. Concerned, he put down his pen. And he was even more concerned when she took his hand.

"Brayburn Manor is on the phone."

He swallowed hard, taking note of the way she gently squeezed his hand. "Thank you." He replied, his voice suddenly unrecognizable to his own ears. He didn't have to ask her why they were calling. He knew. He glanced at the calendar on his wall, etching the date in his mind. February 4th, a date that he would remember for the rest of his life.

"I'll see that you're not disturbed." Mrs. Woodson said, quietly closing the door behind her.

Alone in his office, he stared at the phone. The flashing red light that indicated that he had a call waiting for him matched the pace of his heart. His slender fingers trembled as he reached out and picked up the phone, pushing the button. The receiver to his ear he took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"H-hello? I-I mean, this is Dr. Niles Crane speaking."

"Dr. Crane, this is Cynthia." The familiar voice was unsteady, a sure sign that she'd been crying. And it could only mean one thing.

"Cynthia." He repeated, not really knowing why.

"I'm calling about your father." She said. He knew this of course, but when he blinked, his eyes welled with yet unshed tears and his heart skipped a nervous beat.

Suddenly he was terrified about what she was going to say.

"Yes."

He barely heard her next words. "He's gone."

For a moment he couldn't move. He could barely even breathe. But while his body was motionless, his mind was racing like a freight train, trying to compare the words that she'd spoken. They were words that he hadn't really heard and yet, his heart heard them loud and clear. His mind, meanwhile continued to race, taunting him at every chance, filling his head with things he hadn't said to his father but meant to, things he had said, but shouldn't have, things he'd wanted to say, but had been afraid to say, things he wanted to ask his father but didn't. Things he should have done, but didn't, things he'd done, but wished he hadn't… it was a never ending cycle.

Why hadn't he taken his father in when Frasier asked him to do so? Maris of course would have objected but he could have stood his ground. If only he'd stood his ground years earlier, things would have been very different.

"Dr. Crane, are you still there?" Cynthia's voice broke into his thoughts.

"When?" he replied in a voice that once again he did not recognize.

She sniffled. "Um, just a few minutes ago. I-I wanted to call you as soon as possible."

He nodded, as though Cynthia was in the same room with him instead of calling him from six miles away. Six miles…. If he had just gone to visit his dad that morning instead of rushing to work to check on Mr. Larson's medication list-

The tears that welled in his eyes began to make their way down his cheeks.

Damn…

"Dr. Crane?"

"Yes?"

"I-."

"Oh yes, Thank you for calling, Cynthia. I appreciate it."

"I'm so sorry." She said after a long silence.

"Thank you." he said again as though it was the only word he knew.

"Um, look, I know we talked about the arrangements, before, but-."

"Yes, I'll contact you soon. M-my family-."

"Of course. We'll prepare the paperwork and details here. Take all the time you need and give your brother and your family our condolences."

"Thank you Cynthia. I will."

Woodenly he hung up the phone without saying goodbye, feeling as though he was watching the sad scenario in the form of a movie. It couldn't be happening but his heart hurt so much that he knew it was painfully real. With a deep shuddered sigh, he turned off his computer, the medications and Mr. Larson all but forgotten.

Seconds later he turned off his computer and the office light and then went to the door. When he entered the lobby, Mrs. Woodson stood at once.

He couldn't look at her. The sympathetic gaze he knew she was wearing would have shattered him.

Although she spoke no words, she went to him and gave him a soothing hug. "I'm so sorry." Her words were quiet and for a moment he imagined that she was his mother, speaking the comforting words.

He could only nod in response and he felt like a small boy, the way she was gently rubbing his back.

"Thank you."

"If there's anything I can do, I-."

Their eyes met and she nodded. "Of course I'll take care of everything. Dr. Marshall will be happy to take on your patients while you're gone. Do you know when you'll be back?"

"I-I don't-."

"Of course you don't, how insensitive of me. What's wrong with me today? Oh Dear, now I'm crying too. Forgive me, Dr. Crane."

He reached into his pocket and offered her his handkerchief, to which she smiled sadly, but gratefully.

"Thank you. Now look, take all the time you need, all right?"

Wordlessly he nodded, barely aware of the way she kissed his cheek. She lingered in the office a bit longer than he, although he wasn't sure why.

Once he was safely inside his Mercedes, he put his finger on the ignition button to start the car, but his hand dropped to his side and he leaned his head against the headrest as he grieved for the man he loved so much and had lost so suddenly.