A/N: Thanks to smackalicious, who continously makes me write for this fandom! The prompt was Frasier & Roz with "open your eyes." Right now it's a one-shot, but I'm considering turning it into something more, which is why I'm posting it. So comments are very welcome.
She doesn't mean to call him in the middle of the night. Actually, she doesn't mean to call him at all.
"Roz, is that you?"
She could pretend that she's dialed the wrong number. If he asks tomorrow, she could come up with a lie. Anything. Her lips tremble, for which she hates herself – she's better than this, damn it! – and she grips the phone tighter. She presses it to her ear as if that would transport Frasier right here next to her.
"Roz, is everything all right?" There's a rustling on the line; she imagines him sitting up in bed, maybe turning on the light. She shouldn't have called him. She wills her cold, numb fingers to disconnect. They don't listen to her. In the distance, she hears a siren. Roz startles with an audible gasp, revealing herself.
"Roz? Are you all right? Has anything happened?" Frasier's voice rises as if he's ready to burst into anger. He does that sometimes, she reminds herself. She shouldn't have called.
"I shouldn't have called." Her voice sounds hoarse and she wonders if she screamed earlier. Maybe.
"Where are you, Roz? Where are you?" Roz looks around. She isn't sure where she is. She ran. She doesn't run, not ever, and she is out of shape. Still, she ran.
"I'm not… sure."
"What do you see?" She hears more rustling and thinks Frasier is getting dressed. She wants to close her eyes, wants to see Frasier in her mind and nothing else. Her hand is so numb now, the phone almost falls from it, unable to grasp it.
"I don't know, Frasier. I shouldn't have called and I'm sorry," tears fall down and she tries to stop them, but they won't, "I don't know what to do." There's silence on the other end.
"I'll come and find you. Where were you tonight? Before you… Roz, were you out somewhere? With someone?"
"I was at a bar," she starts looking around; how far did she run? In what direction? All she knows is that he didn't follow her here. She's all alone, finally, "It's called "Hampton's"." Roz knows he doesn't know the bar. He won't have heard of it.
"I'll find you. Don't move wherever you are. I will find you." The line goes dead.
Roz sits down on the sidewalk. It's too cold and she knows it's bad for her. Right now, she doesn't care. Her breath comes out in tiny, cold huffs. She watches them fly away and wishes they would take her thoughts with them. They don't. Roz feels tired. She hugs herself as tightly as she can. Her nose burrows into the collar of her jacket. It smells like cold smoke still and like cheap aftershave. It makes her sick, but she needs the warmth. She closes her eyes, wills herself to chase away the images haunting her.
A car. She hears it close by, her heartbeat picks up, and she keeps her eyes close. She doesn't remember if the guy had a car. The car stops and Roz hugs herself tighter. Just keep your eyes close, she thinks. She's too tired to run now. She can't run. She won't. A car door opens, is slammed shut loudly. Like a crack of thunder.
"Roz!" She should know that voice, but she doesn't; can't quite recognize it through the rapid heartbeat in her ears.
"Roz? Open your eyes, Roz." The voice soft, so close, so familiar. Is it a trick? She wonders. She shouldn't have called him.
"Open your eyes for me, Roz." Even softer, the voice flapping gently against her ears, her heart and soul.
When she finally opens them, she sees Frasier. He found her. He picks her up, almost carries her to the car and keeps her safe.
She's glad she called him.