Nescient
(nesc·ience : noun, meaning lack of knowledge, ignorance, innocent, oblivious)
OOO
It was mid-afternoon when Niles got the call. He kept writing for a moment, ignoring the ringing phone so he could finish his thought on the case notes he was making. He caught it on the fourth ring, faintly irritated that his receptionist hadn't picked it up first.
"Niles Crane," he said.
"Doctor Crane?" He didn't recognize the woman's voice.
"Yes," he replied. "Can I help you?"
"No," his caller said, "I really don't think you can. I don't think you…" she paused, and he heard a catch in her breathing that sounded like the beginning of a sob.
Niles automatically lowered his voice, bringing out his best soothing tone. This was most likely a new patient. "It's all right," he said. "Just start with your name."
There was quiet for a few seconds, and then the soft reply. "Sandra Murchison. I believe you know my father."
Niles frowned. He did have a patient named Tony Murchison but he was extremely careful about maintaining patient privacy and certainly wasn't about to share information of that nature with a random person on the phone, no matter who she claimed to be. He kept his answer neutral. "I see."
"No," she said bitterly. "No, you don't, you never saw, maybe if you had, he wouldn't be…" Her breath caught again and her voice was muffled, as if she'd covered her mouth with her hand.
"Ms. Murchison," Niles said, as gently as he could, "I'm not sure what this is about."
"It's about my father." He heard her take a deep breath. "He's a patient of yours, I know because I found the insurance paperwork in his desk. He's been going to you for three years."
"All right," he said. "And why are you calling today?"
"Why am I calling?" she echoed. "You really have no idea, do you? Well of course you don't. Obviously you don't. You probably never listened to a word he said. Maybe if you'd been paying attention, he would have actually gotten better."
Niles pressed his lips together and swallowed a defensive retort. Whatever problem this woman had, she was emotionally distraught and lashing out and he was merely a convenient target. It hardly new; patients often took out their anger on him if they felt unable to express it elsewhere. "I'm afraid I don't understand," he said, his voice calm and level. "Would you like to talk about this in person? I could make an appointment for you."
She gave a hollow laugh. "Oh, you've helped enough," she said. "In fact, I'm calling to cancel an appointment. My father won't be coming in to see you anymore. You see, he killed himself yesterday."
All the breath went out of him and Niles closed his eyes, the phone nearly falling from nerveless fingers. "Oh," he said, faintly. "I'm so sorry to hear that."
"I'm sure," she snapped. "Doesn't exactly say much for your therapy, does it?"
"I had no idea he was…" Niles scrubbed a hand over his face. "If I'd had any indication that he was thinking of hurting himself I would have-"
"You should have known," she interrupted, her voice breaking again. "How could you not know? You saw him every week for three years! How could you let this happen?"
Niles shook his head, helpless. "I'm so sorry," he said again.
"Oh you're sorry," she spat at him. "Well that makes it all better, doesn't it? You don't even care, do you? He's just another paycheck for you. Great job, doctor."
There was a click, and then dial tone. Numb, Niles slowly dropped the receiver back in the cradle and then put his head in his hands.
He could picture Tony in his mind without even trying. Thinning gray hair, plaid flannel shirt, jeans. Work boots. He'd been a foreman at the construction company where he worked but he still dressed like the rest of the guys. He was complicated, quiet, difficult. Did not open up easily, and when he did talk, it was in sharp bursts of information, always reluctant. He'd been struggling with the death of his wife and the strained, distant relationship with his children but he had never said or done anything that could have told Niles this was coming.
In their last session, Tony had even seemed more upbeat, more happy. Things were going well for him at work, his team had won a bid for a new project and the owner of the company was pleased with him. Niles could remember him sitting in the chair, right there in front of him, smiling and talking about it. That had been three days ago. It didn't seem possible.
He sat until there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Woodson poked her head in. "Doctor Crane?"
"Yes?" he asked, and then cleared his throat when his voice came out rough.
"Your three o'clock just called, she's running late, and…" She paused and came a few steps into his office. "Are you all right? You're white as a sheet."
"I'm fine," he said. He kept his shaking hands in his lap, hidden by the desk. "Is there anything else?"
She frowned at him. "Are you sure? You look terrible."
Niles nodded, hesitated, and then shook his head. "Actually, I'm not feeling so well."
"I didn't think so." She came up to the desk peered at him. "You're probably coming down with the flu. It's been going around the building."
"Probably," Niles said.
"You really ought to just go home," Mrs. Woodson suggested. "No sense in you making your patients worse."
Niles knew she didn't mean anything by it, but the words hit too close and he flinched slightly, gripping the desk with both hands to keep steady. When he looked back up at her, a worried line had appeared between her eyebrows. He made himself smile. "Quite right. Call the rest of my patients for today to cancel please."
"Right," she said, nodding briskly. "Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you." He offered her another thin smile. "I'll just finish up in here. You can go as soon as you've called everyone."
"All right." She cast another concerned glance over her shoulder as she left. Niles held onto his blank expression until the door was closed.
As soon as she was gone, he folded his arms on the desk and put his head down, breathing in the familiar scent of oak and paper. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice in the waiting room outside, making the calls. He'd only had two more patients scheduled that day and Mrs. Woodson was nothing if not efficient. She completed her task and then he heard her walking around, gathering her things. The outer door opened and shut, and then he was alone.
Niles looked at the clean surface of his desk. He didn't leave notes or patient files lying about for the most part. There was one folder open, the one he'd been working on, but the rest were all neatly put away. He closed the last folder and crossed the room to the filing cabinet, moving on auto-pilot. He put that one in its place, and then opened another drawer.
There was the file for Murchison, right where he'd left it. His first impulse was to pull it out and pore over every word, every session, trying to figure out what he'd missed. What signs he had overlooked. But what purpose would that serve? It certainly wouldn't help Tony. And what if he did find something? Some glaringly obvious clue? It wouldn't make him feel any better to know that he could have helped, and had failed.
So Niles closed the drawer, grabbed his coat, and left. His feet carried him automatically, his mind stuck on a repeat track of everything he could remember about Tony. Sandra had been right. How could he have missed it? How could he not know? There must have been some sign, something. How could he have really believed Tony was getting better?
Niles was halfway to Frasier's place before he realized that he wasn't driving home. He wasn't especially surprised. Home, after all, was a dingy, lonely apartment at the Shangri-La. He just couldn't face that right now. He felt very small, and very lost, and pathetic as it might be, he wanted his big brother.
OOO
Daphne answered the door. "Doctor Crane," she said, smiling at him. "What brings you here?"
Niles hesitated. "I was hoping to talk to Frasier," he said. "Is he in?"
"Well, no," she replied. "He's doing his radio show. Just like he does every day at this time."
"Oh," Niles muttered. Of course. Well, that had been rather foolish of him. Par for the course.
"If you don't mind me saying so, you don't look at all well," Daphne said. "Are you feeling all right?"
Niles gave a soft, breathless laugh and didn't answer. He sat on the edge of the couch and leaned forward, his arms resting against his knees, hands dangling between them. He stared down at Frasier's precious Berber carpet and tried to think of what to do next.
The couch cushion shifted as Daphne sat next to him, and he inhaled, catching her familiar scent. He looked over at her, and she looked steadily back at him. "Your father's out too," she said, anticipating the question. "Watching the game with Duke, I think."
Niles nodded. "Think I'll just stay for a while," he said. "Wait for them to get back."
She put a hand on his back and that small, warm weight was enough to make his chest ache. "I'm not a psychiatrist or anything," she began, "but I do listen pretty well."
"Well," Niles said. "That makes one of us."
He wasn't looking at her, but he knew her so well that he could picture her response perfectly. Head cocked to one side, a look of faint confusion, and under that, the expression of fond exasperation she seemed to give all the Crane men. "What?" she asked.
Niles shook his head. "Long story."
"Well I've got nothing to do until the laundry finishes." When he didn't respond, she added, "Of course, we could just sit here and watch me stories. Claudia is supposed to have her baby this week, and Sloane doesn't know he's not the father, but he'll find out when Conrad sneaks into the hospital to steal her away. I know you don't watch them but that's all right, I'll catch you up on all the characters."
Niles couldn't help smiling a little. "Okay, you win," he said. "I'll talk, anything but that."
She elbowed him gently in the side. "I thought you might."
He sighed, and leaned a little closer, letting his shoulder rest against hers. "I lost a patient today," he said softly.
"Oh, well, that's not so bad," she replied. "People leave therapy for lots of reasons. Maybe he couldn't afford it anymore, or he wanted to try something different. It doesn't mean you did anything wrong." Daphne smiled brightly at him. "Maybe he just got better! Isn't that what you hope for?"
"No, Daphne," Niles said. "He didn't… that's not what I meant. He didn't leave therapy, he… he died."
He heard her quick indrawn breath, not quite a gasp, and then her hand was on his back again, moving in soothing strokes. "Oh, Doctor Crane, I'm sorry. Did you know him long?"
"Three years," he said. "I really thought he was getting better."
"Well, you're not really that sort of doctor, are you?" Daphne pointed out. "I mean, if he was sick, he'd be going to a regular doctor. It's not your fault."
"I wish that were true," Niles sighed. "But the fact is, he was going to exactly the right kind of doctor. He was depressed, lonely, and closed off and he needed my help. And I didn't help him."
"Of course you did," she argued. "I'm sure you tried your best. How could it be your fault? I mean, was he in an accident or something?"
Niles closed his eyes. He didn't want to admit this, not to Daphne. Not to the woman whose opinion of him mattered more than anyone's. It felt like letting her down. But at the same time, he thought if he didn't tell someone he would have some kind of breakdown. He hunched forward, putting his face in his hands, and took a deep breath.
"What is it?" Daphne asked. The words were worried, full of compassion, and Niles swallowed hard.
"It wasn't an accident," he told her. "He committed suicide."
"Oh," she said, in a small, shocked voice. Then her arms were around him and Niles, off balance, found himself nearly falling on top of her, his face pressed against her shoulder. She hugged him tightly, fiercely, and he responded after a moment of startled stillness.
"Daphne?" he asked, muffled against her shirt.
"Hush," she said. "I can see what you're doing and you just stop it right now. I know how you are, you and your brother both. You're going to think this to bits, pick at it until you convince yourself that you did something wrong and it's all your fault. Well, don't. What that man did was terrible but you didn't make him do it. You tried to help him."
"But," he started, and she squeezed him tighter.
"No," she said firmly. "I've seen you do this too many times. Why, after Mrs. Crane threw you out, you even found a way to blame yourself for that!" She pulled back enough to look at him, her jaw set and determined, her eyes flashing. "You listen to me, Doctor Crane. You are a dear and wonderful man and I won't stand by and watch you beat yourself up over this."
Niles blinked at her, gaping. Daphne glanced away, looking a bit sheepish, and let him go. She cleared her throat and smoothed her dress over her legs, then tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. Then she met his eyes again, bravely, and raised one eyebrow.
"Well," Niles said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "You really think I'm making too much of this?"
She shook her head. "I'm not saying it's not awful, I know it is. And I wouldn't expect you to just shrug it off. You wouldn't be a very good doctor if you didn't care."
"I'm not so sure I am a good doctor," Niles said, and she poked him hard in the shoulder. "Ow!" he protested, rubbing the spot. "What was that for?"
"You know what," she said, mock-scowling at him. "If you're going to start that again I'll make you watch the soaps after all."
Niles lifted his hands in surrender. "All right, what am I allowed to say then?"
Daphne smiled and settled back against the cushions, drawing him along until their shoulders nestled together companionably. "Tell me about him."
"Tell you about him," Niles mused. "Well, he liked to crack his knuckles. He did it whenever he was anxious or just bored. He had a sense of humor as dry as the Sahara. He used to gamble, but he hadn't touched it for years. That was one problem he managed to beat."
She nodded patiently. "Go on."
So Niles did, rambling on about Tony for most of the afternoon. He found that Daphne did indeed listen pretty well. By the time Frasier came home, Niles and Daphne were folding the laundry together. He never did tell Frasier why he'd come over that day, but he was welcomed to have dinner with the family anyway.
OOO
After dinner, Martin settled in front of the TV, and Frasier went to his room with a book. Daphne went into the kitchen to clean up and Niles followed. He picked up a towel and started drying dishes.
"Oh, thank you Doctor Crane, but you really don't have to help me," she said, flashing him one of her dazzling smiles.
"I should be thanking you," he said.
"What, for dinner? It was just chicken and rice, nothing like the gourmet meals you're used to."
Niles shook his head. He'd barely tasted the dinner anyway, too preoccupied with gathering his courage for this conversation. "No, for earlier. For listening to me about Tony."
She patted his shoulder. "I'm glad I could help. You're always so kind and you've listened to me blather on enough times."
"It was more than that," he insisted. He took a wet dish from her and began drying it, glad to have something to keep his hands busy. "I can understand now why you were drawn into healthcare. You have so much compassion and generosity." He stole a sideways glance at her, pleased to see the slight flush on her cheeks. "We're lucky-I'm lucky that you're here."
"Oh, now, stop that," she said, flustered but smiling.
"I mean it," he said. "I'm so glad that…" He stopped, trying to find the right words. "You have made a big difference for me, Daphne. Not just today. Today is only the tip of the iceberg. I don't think I would have had the courage to stand up to Maris years ago if I hadn't met you, because you showed me how much better it could be."
She put a plate down and braced her hands against the counter, watching him with wide eyes. "Doctor Crane, what are you saying?"
"There's something I've been wanting to tell you," Niles said. His heart was in his throat, beating frantically, and he could feel his stomach roll and flutter, but he barreled ahead. "I was going to wait for the right time, for everything to be perfect, but what happened today… well, it made me think that there's never going to be a perfect time. That you just never know what's going to happen, and waiting is the coward's way out."
"I don't understand," Daphne said, but Niles thought she did, or was beginning to.
"I came close plenty of times," Niles continued. If he stopped now he'd lose his nerve and he knew it. "But I always backed down, I got scared at the last second. You see, I thought you knew already. Subconsciously, maybe, but you had to know. I thought it had to be so obvious anyone who spent five minutes in the same room with us would know. And if you knew, and never said anything, you probably didn't feel the same way."
Daphne's mouth fell open slightly, and she took a breath, but Niles kept going before she could respond.
"But maybe I was wrong about that," he said. "I mean, I didn't know about Tony, after all. So maybe it's not as obvious as I thought. Maybe I really did hide it well. You tell me." He took her hands, stroked her palm with one thumb, reverently. "Did you see this coming?"
Daphne gave a little, breathless laugh. "No, no I didn't. I had no idea."
Niles squeezed her hands, tremendously relieved when she squeezed back instead of pulling away. "You don't have to do anything, or say anything. I just wanted you to know. I needed you to know."
She looked down at their joined hands, and then back up at him, and he saw tears shining in her eyes. "If you want me to know," she said, "then maybe you'd better come out and say it."
The old fear rushed over him, cold all the way up his spine, tying his stomach in knots, and he nearly pulled back but she wouldn't let go. "Yes," he said, softly. "I really should." Niles lifted his chin and drew himself up, meeting her steady gaze. "I love you. I adore you. You're amazing and every time I see you, I only love you more." He laughed nervously. "And I can't believe I just told you that in Frasier's kitchen, in front of a sink full of dirty dishes. Not exactly classic romance, is it?"
She smiled, but it wavered, and the movement spilled tears down her cheeks. Niles felt panic creeping up his throat and he swallowed it back, biting his lip. "You… you don't have to… I'll understand if you don't feel the same way," he said.
"I never even thought about it... about you, like that," she said, and he nodded, looking down. He let her hands go, and folded his arms over his chest.
"It's all right," he told her, but his voice broke on the last word and he wasn't fooling anyone.
"Don't," she said, and he felt her hand on his face, gently tilting his chin up until he met her eyes again. "That doesn't mean no. It just means not yet. I need to… to get to know you this way." Her smile was stronger this time. "You've had a bit more time than I have to get used to it."
"A lot more time," he agreed. He gave her a hopeful smile. "So what does this mean?"
Daphne's hand was still on his face, and she leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. "I was wondering," she murmured in his ear, "if you might be free for a date sometime."
She was so close, it was the easiest thing in the world to turn and answer her with a kiss.
End